Ribbons
by Just Around the Corner
Summary: MollyArthur ... The untold story of Molly and Arthur Weasley. A story of the quiet search for inner beauty and security within the Weasley family.
1. The Outcast

4th Year  
  
Molly sat in the empty Quidditch Arena, staring out into the field. She held a book in her lap: her textbook. She would not open it, for she hated rational, factual thought. Why face the facts, when dreams are so much more beautiful? Molly reached up a bony finger to curl around her red hair, but put it down. Her hair was ugly and stringy and thin. Her face was bony and her blue eyes always misted and far off. Molly got low marks in everything. Everything. She didn't do well in anything. It's not that she was dumb or anything, it was just that she didn't try. She challenged Dumbledore's rationalizing in Charms and inquired too much about why they made Potions in Potion class. She barely passed her first three years at Hogwarts.   
  
And now, she was a Fourth Year, much despised by the teachers, except Dumbledore. Dumbledore always reacted to her questions and arguments with fair arguments of his own. And when he was defeated he nodded to her and gave Gryffindor one point. The other students hated it when Dumbledore and Molly would debate because it usually took up so much classtime, they were overloaded with homework. She was taunted and teased by the people in higher years and had no friends except her wandering imagination and of course, her crow, Jellybean.   
  
Most people thought she was insane, naming a crow Jellybean and challenging teachers so that every day after lessons, she had detention. She didn't give a damn what anyone thought. She didn't care what people said about her behind her back, or even to her face. She had grown up in an orphanage run by a witch. She only knew her parents were pureblooded. Pureblood. It disgusted her! She would've liked to be muggle-born. It would've given her all the more reason to discover the world of magic instead of being told 'You are a witch.' when you were two. Molly stroked the crow that perched on her shoulder. It shook its feathered head and flew away from her.   
  
"I wish I could be like you, Mister Jellybean." She said to him. "I wish I could fly away. The world is such a big place! It seams a crime just to sit here in one place all the time!"   
  
~-~-~-  
  
Arthur Weasley smoothed back his red hair that had gotten quite long and brushed over his eyes quite often. He kept it long because he knew that cutting it would immediatly constitute him as a loser. As the Quidditch Captain, one had to keep a high social status. He had high marks in everything and had practically the entire fifth year and fourth year as his friends. He was cocky, but had a right to be. He was extremely good looking, according to all of the girls and prefect and a Quidditch player and intelligent. His record was perfect, not one detention, ever.   
  
Life was good.  
  
He walked alongside his friend, Seth towards the Quidditch Pitch. Although he loved Quidditch, he hated Quidditch Practice. There was always a girl sitting in the stands, Molly, was her name. She would be heading out of the Pitch when they were going in for practice and it was a routine that the boys on the team would taunt her. Arthur did, also, of course, what would they think if he didn't? She was a loser. She was an outcast. She was a freak! She didn't have any friends, except for that thing she called Jellybean. Honestly, a crow named Jellybean? She didn't fit in anywhere. But, for some strange reason, whenever she picked up the books that were so selfishly knocked from her long delicate fingers, he felt a powerful guilt consuming him.   
  
"--bloody idiots, that's what they are! Who pays these guys anyway?" Seth was saying.  
  
"I don't know." Arthur said, shrugging.  
  
"You okay, Arthur? You look like you've just taken a dive off the deep end?"   
  
"Ho ho!" Arthur said. "Arthur Weasley does not dive until he is sure there are people to marvel at his wonderful diving position!"   
  
"You make no sense, Weasley." Seth said, shaking his head.   
  
"And that, my friend, is why everyone loves me." Arthur smoothed back his bangs.  
  
"Don't look now, but here comes Dolly." Seth said, elbowing him.   
  
"Her name is Molly." Arthur said autmatically.  
  
Seth didn't seem to hear him. "Well, well, little Polly. Didn't we tell you that you're not allowed in this Quidditch Pitch?"  
  
"I'm leaving." Molly said, looking at Seth straight in the eye.  
  
Molly was stupid. Plain and simple. She had no respect for people in a higher social status. She could look at the Head Boy and tell him that he was wrong with no fear of being shoved into the toilet. She didn't understand what went on around her, which is why everyone regarded her as stupid. She would talk to First Years and Seventh Years in the same voice, in the same tone, in the same way. She just didn't give a damn.  
  
Seth glared at her.  
  
"You can't talk to the Quidditch Team Seeker like that, little Polly." He knocked the lone textbook out of her hand and onto the grass.   
  
Molly looked at it for a moment on the ground and then picked it up, brushing it off. Seth smirked and then knocked it out of her hands again. Molly looked at him curiously and then straight at Arthur. Her blue clouded eyes stared straight into his gray ones. And he felt something. Electricity? Hate? Anger? Pity? Her eyes held so much pain, so much suffering, so much that a girl her age should not have experienced, something that no one should experience, ever. But, even though the fact the pain they felt was so hideous, they were the most beautiful eyes Arthur had ever seen.   
  
He slowly bent down to retrieve her book for her. He felt the eyes of his team mates burn into his back as he handed it to her. She just stared at him as if he was playing an awful joke. He felt the terrible guilt swelling inside of him, just as it had when he himself had knocked the books out of her hands the week before. She put her hand on it, as if testing it. Something strange shot into him. A decision. Would he let her have the book and become humiliated in front of the entire school, or would he let his pride reign over?   
  
He let go of the book and it again dropped to the ground. Molly looked betrayed. Her blue eyes, so bright and so blazing flashed nothing close to anger, but surprise. And the horrible guilt kept swelling within him. Molly quickly picked up the book and shuffled out of the arena. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and turned to face his teamates and laughed.   
  
"What a dope!"   
  
~-~-~-  
  
Why? Why did she feel so humble around him? He was only another jock, just like the rest of them. He was good looking and perfect. He was like the rest of them, mean and uncaring, pride reigning over common manners. Molly shook her head and retreated to the Great Hall, where a few students sat playing chess or reading. Molly had self esteem issues. She had to push herself to talk to Seventh Years or First Years, it did not matter, she felt that they were all inevitably better then her, no matter what she did. Molly ran a hand over her red stringy hair. She knew what she looked like, she had a mirror. She knew herself to be ugly. She shook her head and sat next to a few fellow Gryffindors to watch their game of Wizard's chess.  
  
"Hello, Bolly." one said, without looking up.   
  
Molly did not respond, but looked at the Chess pieces. Chess was so pointless! So many rules, strategies and then what? If you won, then what? You've captured the king, good for you, but then what? Would you rule the empire? Chess had no room for imagination. Molly grew tired of the game, for the two were giggling feebly, making a soap opera out of the chess game.   
  
"No, no, the Queen has gone and had an affair with the knight..." one was saying as she left the game to go into the courtyard.   
  
There were only a few students in the courtyard, mingling about, pretending to study so that the teachers looking out their window would not assign them extra homework. Molly seldom did homework, and the many failing grades were a detriment to her grade. She sat down on one of the stone benches, covered with vines. No one sat here during the day, for it was rumored as the Love Bench. At night, couples would sneak out after curfew and come to sit on this bench. Then, they would run off and elope. It was ridiculous, really. Molly sat here during the day because she knew that no one would even dare to go near her, much less sit next to her; especially while she was on this bench.   
  
Safety at last.  
  
~-~-~  
  
Arthur felt bad about Molly. Why didn't he just give the books back to her like a gentleman? Hadn't he been raised better then that? Honorable Purebloods, the Weasley's were called. It was said that Helga Hufflepuff was indeed a Pureblood, but looked found that the most willing to work were muggle-borns. Arthur shook his head, thanking the Sorting Hat, silently, that he wasn't placed in Slytherin.   
  
Arthur smoothed back his bangs again and left the practice early, saying he had a huge Potions exam the next day and needed to study. He never studied, he just did well. He never paid attention in class, he just did well. He wanted to find Molly and apologize for the book. She never did anything to him or anyone as a matter of fact, so why torment her? And he knew, if he didn't find her and apologize, then he knew that he would see those piercing blue eyes in his sleep. They were the color when you turned away from the sun at sunset and looked towards the darkest portion of the sky, not quite a black, but a deep, clear blue.   
  
Arthur knew where to find her, she was always sitting at the Love Bench, by herself. Why, he didn't know, maybe because no person in their right mind would sit next to a girl on the love bench in clear daylight. Maybe because no one really liked her and the Love Bench was well away from the other Concrete Benches. And he saw her, she was there, her thin hair clinging to her head and her eyes closed, as if she was in deep thought. It was strange, she was always looking down. He hated it, her eyes were so beautiful, why not show them to the world?  
  
"Is anyone sitting here?" He asked her. Damn, damn damn! he thought to himself. That was the cheesiest thing ever said! Stupid Arthur! She's only another girl, but how come I feel so damned strange around her?  
  
Molly opened her eyes abruptly and turned to him. She looked to her left and her right and finally back to Arthur, a look of pure shock in her beautiful eyes.   
  
"M-me?" She whispered.   
  
"I mean, if you don't want company..." Arthur said, his ears turning red as he looked away.   
  
"No one is sitting here. No one ever does." Molly said softly.  
  
Arthur sat down next to her, still in his Quidditch Robes. Did he smell like sweat?   
  
"Are they afraid of me?" She asked him.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Them. Everyone. Are they afraid of me? Is that why they don't talk to me. Am I intimidating, Mister Arthur?"  
  
"Don't call me that." Arthur said, smiling. And for some reason, it felt like he was with his best friend, someone he could trust with anything. Seth was okay, but he was, just different. "Call me Arthur."  
  
"Arthur." She repeated slowly, as if the name were in a foreign tongue. "Are they afraid?"  
  
"They're not afraid." He relaxed. "You're just a little different."   
  
"I am?" She asked.   
  
"Well, you have to question everything. The girls say you get up way before them just so they don't see you dress." He paused. "And you always keep your head down. Why is that?"   
  
"Oh." She blushed, her pale face turning a beautiful pink. "Don't you know?"  
  
"Don't I know what?"   
  
"I know what I look like." She said. "I'm ugly. If I keep my head down, then no one will notice me, and if no one notices me, then no one will notice how I look."   
  
"You really think that?" Arthur asked her, looking at her face. She was pale, and her eyes stood out. Her hair was thin and stringy, but if it were combed, it would've been full and wavy.   
  
"Don't look at me." She whispered, tentatively, covering her face.   
  
The guilt swelled. He had offended her? She got up and ran away, her face in her hands. Arthur almost went after her, but decided against it. His mind was definately not at ease now. Would she ever talk to him again? He hated to admit it, but when she talked to him, it didn't feel like it did when he was amidst a group of six or seven of his friends, but with someone who would truly understand. He took the textbook she had left behind and held it in his lap. Carefully, he opened it and inhaled the scent within.   
  
Lavender.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Arthur spilled his heart out to her, after that. Every day, after Quidditch Practice, he sat beside her on that bench, just talking to her. She would listen quietly and take it all in. And for the first time in his life, Arthur felt that someone was actually listening to him and understanding.   
  
"Do I bore you?" he asked her.  
  
"Not at all." Molly said.   
  
"Oh." Was all he said.  
  
"What's wrong?" She asked him.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Don't lie."  
  
"I'm not lying."  
  
"Yes you are."   
  
"No I'm not."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"Fine!" Arthur snapped. "I'm just thinking about my parents, is all."  
  
"And that makes you angry?" Molly asked him, blinking.  
  
"I mean, they're great people and all, it's just, I don't know. Whenever I acheive something, they don't really seem to care. They never tell me how proud they are." Arthur said, shaking his head. "But I guess they are proud, even if they don't say it, right?"  
  
"I would not know." Molly said quietly.   
  
"I mean, it just makes me mad when they just nod their head and don't even say anything when I tell them something really great! I mean, it just makes me mad. Don't you ever get so mad at your parents that you just want to--" he paused. "to I don't know, run away?"  
  
"Mad at my parents?" Molly said. "I grew up in an orphanage. I would not know."  
  
"Oh." Arthur said, feeling deep sympathy for Molly. "I'm really sorry."  
  
"Don't be." Molly said, giving him a small smile. "I guess, when they gave me up, there must've been something wrong with me when I was a baby. Maybe they knew I was going to grow up and be ugly and stupid."   
  
"Hey, that's not true." He said, more then anything, wanting to comfort her. "Maybe they just couldn't afford to take care of you, is all."  
  
"Yeah, but Arthur!" Molly said, close to tears. "When parents love their kid, they find money to pay for their kid, because they love their kid and they want to take care of it! And, if I ever had a child and didn't have any money, I would never ever put it in an orphanage!"   
  
They both said nothing for a few minutes. Molly, an orphan? She never showed any signs of it. Weren't orphans supposed to be full of anger and greif towards their parents? Weren't they supposed to be studious?   
  
Molly wiped her eyes.   
  
"Sometimes I cry." She said. "And all I really want is for someone to hug me and tell me its alright. A friend, a parent, a teacher, I don't care, just someone." She shook her head.  
  
Grabbing her textbook, she ran into the school, leaving Arthur standing there.   
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Hey, man!" Seth said, plopping himself next to him in Charms. "Seems like I never get to see you anymore."  
  
"Yeah." Arthur mumbled.  
  
"Hey, there's this really insane rumor going around the school." Seth said, taking out his wand and laying it on his desk.  
  
Professor Dumbledore started talking. He was explaining something about levitation spells, but Arthur was listening to Seth. What rumors? He'd been with Molly and awful lot, and didn't have time to listen in on the conversations his girl friends had been having.   
  
"They say you hang out with that Polly--"  
  
"It's Molly." Arthur said, a strange sort of anger rising in him.  
  
"Right, Dolly." Seth said, waving his hand. "Anyway, the rumor is you've been hanging out with her. I keep telling them its not true, but everyone keeps claiming its true! Insane, right?"  
  
Arthur said nothing.  
  
"I mean, Polly's such a nut case. She's so damned ugly! Stringy hair, skinny ass face. Looks like a skeleton, really freaks me out, you know. It freaks everyone out. And what a dummy! I mean, nobody would want to hang out with that ugly bitch. Hey, I heard her parents abandoned her. I don't blame them. I mean, what parents could take that ugly little--"  
  
Seth was on the floor, grabbing his nose, the blood pouring down his face. Arthur had knocked over his seat and was standing over him, panting. Every pair of eyes was on Arthur.   
  
"Shut the fuck up!" Arthur said. "You don't even know her! You don't even know what she's like you shallow little jerk. Your such a little bastard, you know that?"  
  
Seth had gotten up, and the blood still flowed from his nose. He looked hard at Arthur. And then he smiled.  
  
"Good man, Weasley. Take away her virginity, take away her purity and ruin her for life. I like how you deal with the oucasts. Wish I'd thought of that." Seth smiled.  
  
"I'll kill you, you stupid manipulative bastard!" Arthur was yelling, his ears red. "Don't you go near her, don't you dare touch her! I'll kill you!"  
  
Arthur lunged at Seth, but was held back by David Finnigan. "Calm down, mate." He was saying.   
  
"Detention for both of you." Dumbledore said. "And fifty points from Gryffindor."   
  
"But Professor--"  
  
"Silence." Professor said. "Now, kindly sit down and let me continue this lesson or you may go and settle your argument with the Headmaster."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Arthur sat in Charm's class, angrily writing an essay on the importance of Negotiation. It wasn't his fault. It was all that dummy, Seth's fault. Arthur sighed and tried to think of something. He had the dictionary on his desk turned to Negotiation. He flipped it backwards. Love. He turned to the word Love. How ironic.   
  
"A strong affection." Arthur whispered to himself   
  
He felt his ears turning red as he thought of Molly sitting on the stone bench all by herself, waiting for him. Would she be waiting? Was he just imposing on her silence when he talked to her every day? And more importantly, why in God's name did he think of her when he read the definition for-- God forbid -- love! He was not in love with Molly. She wasn't very bright. She had stringy hair. Not the type of girl Arthur hung out with. But then, why did he feel such a strong affection towards her? Was it her bony face? The fact that someone was as pitiful as him when it came to relationships with parents? Hell, she didn't even have any! Or, was it the way that she listened, when most of the people he talked to would turn their head and snicker.   
  
He caught himself smiling.   
  
~-~-~-  
  
It was well after dinner when he finally made his way out of detention. He knew that Molly still wasn't waiting at the Love Bench, but he went to check, just for the hell of it. And if she wasn't there, then he could spend sometime by himself, just thinking. It had been a while since he'd done that. It was like he had to be surrounded by people all the time.   
  
She was still there.  
  
"Sorry I'm late." He said. "I had detention."  
  
"From who?"   
  
"Dumbledore." Arthur answered, sighing. "I missed Quidditch Practice, Dinner and everything."  
  
"Why'd Dumbledore give you detention? Dumbledore never gives detention." Molly said.  
  
"It was over something really stupid." Arthur said. "Just forget about it."  
  
"Arthur Weasley!" Molly said. "You've never gotten detention ever in your whole entire life! Don't you tell me, 'Just forget about it!' "  
  
"I was in a fight, there, happy?" Arthur said, his ears turning red in the dark.   
  
"Over what?"  
  
"Man, what is this?" He asked her. "An interrogation? Listen, I'm really pissed off right now and I'd appreciate it if you layed off the interrogation, okay Molly?"  
  
Molly was quiet for a minute.  
  
"I know what they say about me. Everyone says it about me."  
  
"Listen, I'd love to wallow with you in self pity, but I just don't have that kind of brain damage." Arthur said, begginning to feel angry at her.   
  
"I'm sorry I got you in trouble." She said.  
  
"You did not get me in trouble!" Arthur said, running his hand through his hair. "It was that jerk, Seth."  
  
"But you defended me." Molly said. "I'm not worth defending."  
  
"What are you, psychic or something?" Arthur said. "And you didn't hear what he said about you."  
  
"Why do you care?" Molly suddenly cried out. "And why do you come here every day? Don't you have some other friends to be with? Don't you have any other outcasts you can harass? You're a terrible person, Arthur Weasley! And to think, I thought you really cared!"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked her.   
  
"I know your type, your friends tell me all the time." Molly said, biting her tongue to hold back the tears.   
  
"What do they say to you?"   
  
"Don't play stupid, Arthur Weasley!" Molly said. "I know that you're just using me. I don't know quite what you want from me, but I can gaurantee, no one's ever gained anyting from me. So why don't you just leave, okay?"  
  
"Molly, I'm not--"  
  
"Yes you are!" Molly shrieked, the tears pouring down her cheeks. "You're just going to make me trust you and then you're going to start all of these rumors and then you'll leave me alone again! Have you ever wondered why I don't have any friends? It's becuase that's all friends are, Arthur! They just use and then throw you away when they don't need you! Just like everyone!"  
  
And then Arthur felt her pain. Molly had been abandoned and had been thrust into a world in which there was no one to hug her when she needed hugging. All she could do was watch all of the other children be hugged. Her pain was so deep and her suffering so innocent, Arthur felt something unfamiliar grow inside of him. It wasn't pity. It was far from it. It was a deep caring. A deep want to make her life better. A deep desire to embrace her weak frame and make her stronger.   
  
Molly stood there, basked in the light of twilight, tiny body shaking with sobs. Arthur excepted her to run away into the school, but she didn't. Her quiet pain stood before him. Everything stood before him.   
  
His arms acted by themselves. It was as if his brain had stopped functioning and the emotions took over his body. He felt Molly's trembling body against his.  
  
"I would never, ever, ever in a million and one years, do anything to hurt you, Molly." He meant every single word of it.  
  
"Then go away." She whispered. "Don't think I don't know it, Arthur. Every teenage couple breaks up. It's proven. I don't want my heart to get broken. So go."   
  
"I'm sorry." Arthur half laughed. "I can't do that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Well, you're clinging to my waist."  
  
~-~-  
  
Silently, her tears fell on her pale cheeks. Arthur was doing his best to stop the tears from his own eyes as he stared at Molly. And as they stood on the platform, he knew that he would see Molly in a few months and that all would be well. But, he missed her already. It was horribly irrational that he should, but he did. He smiled to be brave. Not for himself, but for Molly.   
  
"Is this goodbye?" She asked him.  
  
"Of course not." Arthur said, smoothing back his bangs.   
  
"Is this the end?" She asked him.  
  
"Hey, listen to me." He said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I think that this is far from the end, Molly."  
  
"What do you mean?" Molly asked him.  
  
"I think it's only the beginning." He smiled.  
  
Molly smiled back at him, her pale cheeks suddenly filling with a light pink.  
  
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, smiling. And then, in that one moment, he knew one thing was certain. He was going to marry this girl that stood before him. He didn't care how, he didn't care when, he just knew he was going to. And he would make her keep her head up high and face the world head on. Of course, he wouldn't tell her right now. No, he would wait. But one thing was for sure. As he watched her walk down that platform to the awaiting bus, he smiled.  
  
He loved her. 


	2. The Bumpy Road

The Bumpy Road  
  
Arthur had gotten his hair trimmed. Of course, according to his mother, it was still far too long and it just wasn't sensible for a young man to go around looking unkempt and like he was homeless. His father just shook his head, ruffled his newspaper six times, cleared his throat and ignored him. Arthur had come to appreciate this familiar routine with his parents; after all, he would always be better off then poor Molly, who didn't have any parents. But, there was one thing (besides her entire being) that Arthur especially loved about Molly.  
  
She took him how he was.   
  
"I'm going to Hogwart's now." He announced, clutching his rat, Patricia.  
  
"That's nice, son. Don't forget to write." His mother said, stirring her tea.  
  
"I won't be back until June." He said.  
  
"Yes, we know."   
  
"And I'd sure appreciate a goodbye of some kind." Arthur said, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"You'll miss your train, son." His father grumbled from behind his newspaper.  
  
"Goodbye to you, too." Arthur mumbled angrily as he stormed out the front door, slamming it.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly sat on her trunk at the platform, watching all of the students board the train. A few eyed her strangely, as if wondering if she was boarding or not. She smiled oddly back at them.   
  
"I hate you James Potter! Do you hear me? I hate you!" A girl was screaming. "I'm going to kill you one day! I'm going to throw you off a cliff and laugh at your dead body!"  
  
A girl with pretty green eyes was screaming at a boy with raven black hair and rounded glasses. The boy (presumably James Potter) was laughing hysterically and juggling a kitten in his hands.   
  
"I might drop it, you know!" he mocked her.  
  
"Don't you dare, you monster!" she shrieked, tears springing from her eyes.  
  
"Aw, Lily, why do you always cry? You always spoil the fun!" James said, handing the small kitten back to her awaiting hands.  
  
"I'm not crying!" Lily shrieked, letting loose a sob.   
  
"You're such a wimp!" The boy next to James shouted. "We should beat you up!"   
  
Molly felt herself smiling as she walked over to the group of First Years.  
  
"You're a violent little imp, aren't you?" She asked the boy next to James.   
  
"You bet ya'! " He exclaimed. "I can take anyone on at any time, you just watch me!"   
  
Molly rolled her eyes. "There now, stop crying, Lily." She said to the little girl, whom had her faced buried in the kitten's fur.  
  
"He almost killed her!" Lily screamed, pointing an accusing finger at James who stifled a laugh.  
  
"Get on the train, the lot of you." Arthur said, suddenly appearing. "G'on. Don't you know what they do to first years who don't catch the train?"  
  
"W-what?" stuttered James.  
  
"They throw them in the lake with the Giant Squid." Arthur said, smirking. "And they never come out."  
  
That's all it took for the three First Years to scamper on the train faster then greased lightning.   
  
"You know what I think?" Molly said dreamily.   
  
"What?"  
  
"I think that Lily and James will get married one day."  
  
"What?!" Arthur exclaimed. "Molly, they're eleven years old!"  
  
"I know." Molly said, boarding the train. "But, love's a funny thing, isn't it?"  
  
Arthur shook his head and felt the involuntary smile creep onto his lips.   
  
"Sure is." He muttered as he boarded the train behind Molly.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Arthur, Arthur ... Arthur ... " Molly whispered to herself as she laid on her new bed in the Fifth Year's dorm.  
  
Molly giggled feebly at her immature little fantasies. The two of them riding off into the sunset. The two of them dancing under the moonlight. The two of them getting married at twilight, just as the sun was rising. And then, Arthur taking her into his big, strong arms and carrying her far ... far away ...  
  
"In your dreams ..." Molly muttered angrily to herself.  
  
What was he? He was popular, had perfect teeth and shiny, sleek hair. Like a boy with that status would be able to find a girl like her attractive in any ways. But, it was so funny.  
  
She had always the one to make sure no one touched her. The one to be logical and protect herself. The one that everyone hated. And then suddenly, she had a friend. Not only a friend, but a best friend. Someone that would listen and understand.   
  
It was so much better to be just friends.  
  
The dormitory door opened.  
  
"... of course!" a girl said.  
  
"Are you sure he did?" The other girl asked.  
  
"I'm positive!" the girl shrieked.  
  
"But, Arthur Weasley!"  
  
Molly felt her heart do something funny. It scrunched up and seemed to cringe with pain and regret. She turned on her side and pretended to be asleep.  
  
"I know! He just came up and asked me out!"  
  
"And what did you say?"  
  
"Are you insane? I said yes! Yes!"  
  
Molly didn't know why her eyes started to burn. She didn't know why she felt so much loss when she knew that Arthur couldn't possibly have stayed with her, a friend. Arthur would never consider her as anything besides a confidant. And why should he?   
  
Because she loved him.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly sat in the Great Hall, breakfast lay out in front of her. She wasn't hungry, and she didn't think she ever would be again. She hated that girl that Arthur had asked out. Molly picked at her food dreamily with no concern whatsoever of what was going on around her. Arthur was in Sixth Year ... sixteen years old! What did she expect: Him to wait for her until she was suddenly beautiful? It'd never happen! Arthur would never see her as anything except Molly. And she was fine with that! Perfectly fine! But, then why did it hurt so much?  
  
Because she loved him.  
  
"Damn it all." She muttered to herself.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
He had no idea what his problem was. Arthur smoothed his bangs back angrily. Why had he asked that Sh-- sh --- what was her name again? Sharon? Sheeba? Sharon, that was it. Sharon. Ah, well, he had to. Even though he was less concerned with gossip, he still had to keep a high social status. He had to! He had to make up for all of the gossip last year with Molly. It's not that he regretted it at all. No, of course not! He realized how foolish he was over the summer to think he actually loved Molly. And he had told himself that it was perfectly alright for him to go on dating other girls because he was never officially dating Molly.  
  
Then, why did he feel like such a prat?  
  
"Godamn conscience." He muttered.  
  
"What was that?" Sharon asked him.  
  
He only, then, realized that he was in the library and Sharon was leaning her head on his arm. It was sick, really. He didn't want her there. For a split second, he imagined Molly's red hair there instead of the artificial blonde. He smiled. He put his arm around her and she started to talk about her past, her present and he listened, for once.   
  
"Arthur?"  
  
"No!" He cried, willing the image of Molly away from his head. Why was he so obsessed? He did not love her! He didn't even find her attractive! It was Godamn messed up that he should have these ... thoughts of her, leaning against his arm, talking to him in that singsong voice. If she ever had children, they would be so lucky to have a mother like her to sing them to sleep. She would have many children who would love her.   
  
But not with him. God forbid it, No!  
  
"You're acting funny today, Arthur." Sharon cooed. "Are you trying to tease me?"  
  
"I've got to go." He said abruptly. "Quidditch Practice."  
  
"Okay, meet me at dinner, then!"  
  
Arthur didn't reply, but shuffled rather quickly out of the library.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Ah, the Quidditch Team approaches! Molly stroked her old crow, Jellybean. He was aging. He flew slower. He flew lower to the ground. And his eyes seemed to be so tired. Molly knew if her crow died, she would cry terribly.   
  
"Old friend." She said to it. "Enjoy the sky why you still can." She released it and Jellybean flew feebly away, slowly, as if not sure where he was going. As if he was lost within the sky.   
  
Molly climbed down from the stands, only to be met by the taunting Quidditch Team. She didn't know what to do. Should she say 'hello' to Arthur? Should she just walk by? Why should she even acknowledge him? Molly just stood there, facing the Quidditch Team. Arthur, in front.   
  
"Hey Dolly!" faithful Seth called. "Like that poison we gave your chicken? It'll be dead in the next month or so!"  
  
Molly looked up. "W-what?"  
  
"Yeah, Arthur helped the most, though. Came up with all the ingredients and everything!" Seth clapped Arthur's shoulder, who just looked at her helplessly.  
  
You promised, Arthur. Molly thought. You promised you'd never do anything to hurt me. You promised, you lying bastard. So, it was the truth. You were just using me to gain popularity. It's all clear now. I hate you Arthur Weasley! I hate you!  
  
It was as if Arthur heard her.  
  
"Molly." He said, walking towards her.  
  
She didn't even try to stop the tears from pouring out of her eyes. Jellybean was going to die. Along with her. Jellybean was everything to her. The Arthur she knew was just a fake. A clone. Someone who didn't give a damn about her. Someone who just 'dealt with the outcasts.'   
  
"Molly." He repeated, reaching out his arms, as if to hug her.  
  
"You promised!" She screamed at him, forcing him to take a step back.   
  
The quiet pain she had endured took over her. She dropped to her knees and started to sob and sob and sob and sob. She couldn't control it. She loved Arthur! She loved him! She was her first love ever. And she wasn't just crying for her godamned crow. She was crying because of all the lies. Everything was a lie now.   
  
The Quidditch Team said nothing. Even Seth was silent. They all saw what they had done. They all saw what their foolish pride had cost a girl who had done absolutely nothing to them.  
  
A small girl stepped out from the Seeker. James Potter, first year seeker. He had amazing talent.   
  
"Molly, don't cry." She said, innocently, walking up to her. "Please don't cry."   
  
Molly looked up at the girl's beautiful green eyes.   
  
She saw hope.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Arthur felt horrid. He felt like throwing up when he looked at his flawless face in the mirror. How could he have contributed to that stupid potion? How could he have taken away something that meant so much to Molly? He had given her his word that he would never hurt her. He went back on his word. He was just as bad as --   
  
"Well, well, if it isn't the Weasel."  
  
Malfoy.  
  
"What happened, Weasel, get dumped by another one of your girlfriends?"  
  
"Don't you have a hole to slither in, Malfoy?" Arthur scowled.  
  
"My, my, aren't we touchy?"   
  
"Stop it, Lucious." Narcissa whispered. "Stop picking fights."  
  
Malfoy didn't hear.  
  
"Didn't see your parents at the orientation, Weasley. Oh, wait. I remember now, you're the one with the parents that, 'don't care.' "   
  
Arthur didn't move from the windowsill where he was sitting. He let his bangs brush over his eyes as he glared angrily at Malfoy. He could make fun of his family all that he wanted. He wasn't going to let Malfoy get to him.   
  
~-~-~  
  
Molly shuffled down the dark hallway, just getting out from detention (courtesy of Professor Lacks). She clutched the heavy textbook against her body and tried not to cry. Why did she keep thinking about Arthur? Why did she keep thinking how much his red hair matched hers? Why did she keep thinking of how his hair brushed against his eyes? Why was she mesmerized by his gray eyes? Why? It didn't make any sense. Nothing made any sense anymore.  
  
She turned the corner. Her shoes were a size too big, as they were hand-me-downs from girls who had left the orphanage. She hated the ugly sound they made when they stepped against the stone floors. She closed her eyes tightly and walked on.   
  
~-~-  
  
"Heard you failed your last test, Weasley." Malfoy was saying. "What's the matter? Is the King losing his touch?"  
  
"I could perform a hex better then you with my eyes closed, Malfoy." Arthur said.   
  
"Right, then." Malfoy said. "Then, we'll both try to hex the next person that turns the corner all the way down the hall. Whoever's hex affects the person most will receive ten galleons from the loser."  
  
"I hope your vault at Gringott's is as big as your mouth, Malfoy." Arthur said, smirking. "Because I'd hate to have to resort to raiding your robes to get my pay when I win."  
  
"I've always enjoyed a challenge." Malfoy said. "Especially from someone as easy to defeat as you."  
  
Nacrissa burst into tears and ran away.   
  
Both reached into their robes and retrieved their wand, ready.  
  
Malfoy said the curse faster then the person would expect it. He said it faster then Arthur could knock the wand out of his hand and save the poor girl that was hit by the hex. It all happened in a blur. A big giant blur.   
  
Molly looked surprised at first. And then she was in pain. So much pain. It felt as if someone was pulling all of the blood out of her body by force. By horrible force. It hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. She wanted it to stop. More then anything she wanted it to stop. Stop ... stop ... just make it stop. She saw the stone floor rushing towards her and then something stopped her from falling.   
  
"Molly! Molly, say something!" Arthur pleaded.   
  
She opened her mouth and blood gushed out of it and onto the stone floor. Blood. She coughed and more came out.   
  
"What the fuck did you do, Malfoy?" Arthur yelled at the laughing boy.  
  
Malfoy continued to laugh. "I was hoping to get a muggle born, but this is so much better!"  
  
Malfoy's laughed died down as he walked down the hall, towards the Slytherin Common Room.   
  
Tears were running down Molly's face, made even more pale then it was before.  
  
"Make it stop, Arthur!" She begged him .  
  
And more than anything, he wanted to.  
  
~-~-  
  
He was never going to go near her again. It was all his fault she was in this pain, and after he went as far as to promise his friendship and condolence. What scum he was! He was even worse then a filthy Slytherin, lower then a Malfoy. Why was it only the people he loved that were always hurt by him? Him? First it was Seth, with his broken nose, then it was Molly and , who next? Sure, all of the girlfriends were dumped and they cried for a spell, but got over it soon enough and were flirting with him the next day. Their emotions weren't real. Molly's were. He refused to visit her in the hospital wing. He refused to see her. He wasn't going to ever hurt her again.   
  
"Arthur." came the high pitched giggle beside him.   
  
Arthur glanced at the girl trailing beside him. Her name, was it Ann? Annie? Annabelle? Andrea? Annette? It started with an A, he knew that. Well, whatever it was, it was ugly. Everything he touched became ugly. All of these girls that clung to his arms were beautiful, and they would stay beautiful because he would never dare to talk to them like he had ever talked to Seth or Molly. They were hurt because of him. It was horrid.   
  
Right, back to her name. Alice? Amanda? Ah--what was it? Molly's name was so beautiful, unlike this girl's, whatever it happened to be. Molly Elaine Eloise. It was so graceful. He smiled when he thought of the red head. Stop it, you stupid prat! He thought. Just shut up! You can't ever go near her again, ever. Do you hear? She hates you, and you hate her, so just let it go. Let it go, Arthur. Let it go.  
  
"Oh, Arthur." She said dreamily.   
  
It didn't matter what her name was. She would be gone tomorrow. He just hoped that Molly would leave him. He wanted more then anything to be free of her smiling face. He saw it in his dreams. He wanted her to go. Go away until he couldn't see her anymore.  
  
"Quidditch Practice." he muttered, ducking into the Locker Room, ripping his arm from the girl.  
  
~-~-~  
  
How? How did a friendship so beautiful suddenly turn into something so horrid and ugly? Molly lay in her bed in the hospital wing, staring into the impending darkness of night. Madame Zel was a crazy old woman. She believed that students slept best in the pitch black. Luckily, Irene Pomfrey was a constant visitor to the hospital wing. She would always turn on a small candle light for the residing students. If she grew up to run the Hospital Wing, why, she would be the best Nurse Hogwart's had ever seen!  
  
"Something on your mind, Molly?" She said, sitting herself down in the chair beside her bed.  
  
"Don't you ever sleep, Irene?" Molly said, trying to make her voice sound groggy.  
  
"Now, who do you think you are fooling, Molly Eloise? I can tell when a person is groggy and when they are just plain faking it. You know, when your stomach is empty, and your mind is full, it is impossible to find safety in the realm of dreams." Irene said, handing her a cup of hot chocolate.  
  
Molly took the cup and sat up, taking a sip. "You didn't slip anything in this, did you?"  
  
"Of course not." Irene smiled. "But, if you don't tell me what's wrong, then, next time I will."  
  
Molly turned away from Irene. How could she possibly understand the terrible hurt she was feeling for Arthur? How he hated her, and because of what? She didn't even know what she had done. She felt the tears run down her cheeks in the darkness.  
  
"Molly." Irene said, taking her cold hand. "You're so frail and fragile. You're like glass. Whatever his name is, I'm sure that he just wants to protect you."  
  
"Protect me from what?" Molly cried out, the tears springing from her eyes. "Irene, you'll never understand! I can never have him. Ever!"  
  
Irene was silent for a few seconds. "Finnigan." She whispered, smiling at her.   
  
"What?"   
  
"David Finnigan." She said. "He's a pureblood."  
  
"So? That doesn't mean that you can't--"  
  
"Of course." said Irene. "I'm just a filthy little halfling. I've some elf blood in me. But, that's all."  
  
"Irene ... "  
  
"Don't you tell me I don't understand Molly Elaine Eloise! That boy meant the world to me! I was turned down because I was a filthy little halfling! It's not fair, it's not fair at all, Molly."   
  
Molly was silent.  
  
"Arthur ... " she muttered.  
  
"Weasley?" Irene said, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "Oh, yes, he is very handsome. But, that's all he is. He's very shallow. He's had about three girlfriends already. They've all gotten dumped. Arthur's a cold blooded beast, if you ask me. He only cares about himself."  
  
"Shut up, you stupid girl." Molly hissed. "You have no idea who he is and what he goes through."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure that it must be positively dreadful to have flawless looks and the entire school at your heels." Irene said coldly.  
  
"Arthur is ... " Molly said, quietly. "Arthur is a beautiful person."  
  
"I think everyone can see that." Irene said.  
  
"Don't you see, Irene Madison Pomfrey?" Molly said. "It's what people don't see that make him a beautiful person."  
  
"Although I've never seen anyone defend Arthur Wesley's personality traits such as you have, my dear Molly, I do not doubt your judgment."  
  
"He's honest and he's kind and he's trustworthy."  
  
"And is that why he poisoned your crow, mocked you in front of the entire school, made a joke of you, hexed you and now won't speak to you?" Irene asked her sarcastically.  
  
"To bed!" Madame Zel screamed through the infirmary. "Irene Pomfrey, you get out of here, or I'll have you kicked out of Hogwart's faster then you can say 'Hufflepuff!' "  
  
"I'm going to run this place one day." Irene said, walking straight up to Madame Zel. "And I'm going to make sure that there are no portraits of your ugly face to frighten the likes of the poor students."   
  
"Fifteen points from Hufflepuff!" Madame Zel roared.  
  
Irene scowled at the fat woman and rushed out of the Hospital Wing and towards the Hufflepuff Common Room.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
In quiet pain, Molly watched the days trudge slowly on. She saw a new girl with Arthur every week, each more beautiful then the last. Molly stopped going to the love bench. Arthur stopped throwing her small, encouraging smiles between classes. They avoided each other's eyes, knowing full and well what would happen if they looked into the other's. Each knew that the other didn't return the love they were so dedicated to.   
  
"--of course if you want to buy proper dress robes, the only place to go is Hogsmeade!" The girl clinging to his arm said.  
  
"Right. Hogsmeade." Arthur repeated, dully.  
  
"Right!" The girl chirped. "Although the prices are a bit, well, pricey, it's well worth it. Oh, I've this adorable robe. It's emerald green and has a darling little brooch right where the cloaks intercept. I think that I look best in it with my hair curled. Although, Vanessa says I look better with my hair down in it. I think that painting my nails will accent my fingers when I wear those dress robes. Oh! Did I tell you about the wonderful eye shadow I got, just last week? Well, my cousin sent it to me, she lives in France. It's a deep midnight blue. I don't think it'd go too well with my new dress robes, but it's just so darling! I've got a pair of periwinkle robes in the back of my wardrobes, I think they'd go rather good with those. Of course, periwinkle is so last season. Oh, my! Did you hear about Sophie? That German girl? Well, she was caught wearing royal red dress robes to the Yule Ball! Can you imagine, Arthur? Royal Red!"  
  
Arthur hadn't heard a bit of what the girl (ah, what was her name?) had said. Something about France and nail polish and hair. Three subjects that he had no interest in whatsoever. He had been a bit distraught lately. Gryffindor had been losing quite a few Quidditch Matches because of him. It was absurd that the Team Captain couldn't keep a few goals out of the rings. His attention was elsewhere, he searched the courtyard for Molly. The girl had started talking again.   
  
"Oh, look Arthur! There's that Polly!"  
  
"It's Molly." Arthur said automatically.  
  
"Right, yes, whatever." giggled the girl. "Doesn't she know that it's only proper for girls to have their skirts hemmed two inches shorter this season? It's all the rage, Arthur. I must say, her skirts are the same length all year round, it's so absurd!"  
  
"What about when it gets cold?" Arthur asked.  
  
"Oh, us girls have more then one skirt, Arthur. When the weather gets too cold, we simply switch to our winter skirts, which are two inches longer then the usual length, making them four inches longer then the summer skirts. Of course, it is very crucial for a girl to know the exact day to switch Summer and Winter skirts. If not, why, she'll be the laughing stock of the school!" The girl paused for air. "But take Bolly--"  
  
"Molly." Arthur said.  
  
"--for instance. She doesn't ever change her skirt length. It's always cut right at the knee, just like the normal dress code. Doesn't she realize that everyone's making fun of her, I ask you, Arthur? She doesn't care! She just doesn't! No summer skirts or winter skirts for her, no sir. And when it comes to Dress Robes! Why, I've gone into her wardrobe. Now, don't look at me like I'm a nosy little girl, Arthur. Anyone would've been naturally curious! Well, she had a pair of dress robes, believe it or not, and they were periwinkle! Periwinkle! Arthur, I know why she doesn't go to balls anymore. She's so ashamed to be seen in those last season robes. Who wouldn't be? I don't even think she has any right seasoner for her hair! Now, Arthur, don't tell me you don't know what seasoner is? Well, it's the stuff you use for your hair after you use conditioner. You know, right before the after seasoner. Well, she only had shampoo and conditioner! Can you imagine? No wonder her hair is stuck in such a rut! Someone needs to teach that girl the 'do's' and 'do not's ' of wardrobe."   
  
Molly had been looking down strictly at her textbook. But, Arthur knew, she wasn't reading. He could feel it. She could feel him staring at her. He watched her careful blue eyes, searching the page for answers to questions that could never be answered. Arthur felt the urge to walk over and sit down next to her and spill his heart out, once again. He wanted to tell her all about the ridiculous girls he had been dating.  
  
"--got to get to Muggle Studies. Bye, Love." The girl said, pecking Arthur on the cheek.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"I love food!" The girl said.   
  
She was a new one. He hadn't seen Molly in a week, and he was getting worried about her. As much as he wanted to rub her away from his mind, she always remained. The girl, who sat beside him, now, seemed very fond of food. Ah, her name? Katherine? Kelly? Katie? Who, in God's name, cared? The only name that would ever be beautiful to him was Molly Elaine Eloise.   
  
"I plan to be a chef someday, Arthur. Of course, I plan to use very little magic. Did you know that if you sprinkle cupcake batter with a bit of pepper it gives it a zest!"  
  
"Zest." Arthur repeated.  
  
"There's to be a Spring Ball." said the girl." Every girl, third year and up is required to go. If they don't find a date, they'll be paired up."  
  
"Spring Ball." Arthur said absently.  
  
"Well, I suppose, we'll be going together, then?" the girl said hopefully.  
  
She laid her plump little head down on his lap before he could protest. He let her lay there, he was too tired to protest or ask her to move.  
  
And then he saw her. Molly, standing at the edge of the courtyard. Her blue eyes leaking with quiet tears. They weren't jealous, they weren't angry. They were sad. So very sad. He could hear what she was saying. Her eyes said it all, every single word. The overwhelming guilt of seeing her alone seemed to take control of him. He meant to protect her. He meant to make sure that no one hurt her, even him. But, how? How could he have been so blind? He had broken her poor, fragile little heart. The pieces lay scattered on the floor and her blank eyes just looked at him.   
  
'I love you, Arthur.'   
  
'I love you too, Molly.'  
  
She ran.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Listen." he said to the girl laying on his lap. "It's over."  
  
"What?" She gasped, her bottom lip quivering. "But, Arthur!"  
  
"Just, leave me alone!" He yelled, running after Molly.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
The Spring Ball was canceled. There really was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Or so it seemed. Arthur couldn't stop thinking of Molly. He had loved her all along. All along. What in God's name was his problem? Why did he date all of those useless girls? How could he have caused Molly such -- such pain when all he thought he wanted was to take it away from her forever. To make her strong enough so she could fight for herself. So he could fight for her.  
  
And now, he sat on the train, rolling down the tracks to Platform 9 and 3/4, he felt so lost. He wanted someone to find him. He wanted someone to love him for who he was, not because of the perfect hair. Not because of the Quidditch Record and reputation. But, for Arthur. He didn't care if anyone saw, but he let the lone tear run down his cheek.  
  
"Arthur?"   
  
"Get away, damn it!" He yelled, hastily wiping the tears away from his eyes.  
  
Molly stood in the doorway, wanting to stay with him, but wanting to fulfill his wishes and go away, far away, where he could forget all about her.  
  
"I can't." she sobbed. "I can't do this, Arthur."  
  
"Molly." He said. "What can't you do?"  
  
"I can't stand to be in love, can't you see?" she sobbed. "It hurts too much, and even though you won't admit it, your hurt too. And for what? Where will we all end up, anyway, Arthur?"  
  
Arthur felt himself smile that unfamiliar smile as he took her hand and pulled her towards the seat next to him.  
  
"Well, I suppose, we'll end up back at the beginning." He said, smiling.  
  
"At the beginning." Molly repeated. "That sounds like a good place to be."   
  
Arthur smiled.  
  
"Did I tell you about those idiot girl friends that I dated?" He laughed.  
  
"No, do tell." Molly said, sinking back in the seat.  
  
"Well, there was one and she ... "  
  
And as the train sped along the mountains, Arthur once again found peace in the stringy red head he fell in love with. Both knew, and both refused to say. But, it was just as Arthur had said.  
  
It was the beginning. 


	3. Fly Her Away

Fly Her Away  
  
It was November. Seventh Year wasn't going so well for Mister Arthur Weasley. Not studying had gotten him past six years of Hogwarts, and he just slipped by with a minimum passing grade in his O.W.L's. His and Molly's test scores were among the lowest ever given in Hogwart's History. He didn't need grades. He was going to become an Auror. He was planning to leave school soon, anyway.   
  
"You're going to drop out?" Molly asked him.  
  
"I don't see what the point is." Arthur said. "I mean you don't need school to become an Auror."   
  
"You'd be surprised."   
  
"I don't need seven years of Hogwarts to become an Auror." He said decidedly. "I mean I've passed six out of seven, that must count for something. Right?"  
  
"Would you be angry if I dropped out of Hogwart's during my Seventh Year?" Molly asked.  
  
"Are you kidding, Molly?" Arthur asked her, standing up. "You're brilliant! I will not allow you to leave school!"  
  
"I'm failing, Arthur."  
  
"Your mind is so bright, Molly. Your way of thinking is so much higher then these, these, baboons!" Arthur said passionately. "Don't you see, Molly?"  
  
Molly smirked.  
  
"Don't you smirk at me, young lady!" Arthur said. "I know you meant to use that reverse psychology crap on me. Well, it's not going to work. I'm dropping out of Hogwart's."   
  
Molly smiled.   
  
"Don't forget to write, then." Molly said.  
  
"What?" Arthur exclaimed. "You're not going to stop me? You're not even going to argue with me?"  
  
"If it makes you happy." She said. "Then, by all means, go. Go and be free, Arthur."   
  
"Molly!" Arthur said.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How can you just let me go, when you know, that it'll just leave you alone again and you'll be sad?"  
  
"Because." said Molly. "I've not right to stop you."  
  
"That's right." Arthur said.   
  
"You're contradicting yourself." Molly said.  
  
"I am not!"  
  
"Of course." Molly nodded.  
  
Arthur was silent for a moment.   
  
"What would you do, if someone told you, that they loved you, Molly Elaine Eloise?"  
  
Molly looked surprised for a minute. "Arthur." she said quietly. "I thought we went over this. No one, ever, would say that to me. Who would love a poor, stupid little orphan?"  
  
He saw her fight back the tears and felt an enormous pride swell inside of him. She was fighting for herself. She was fighting for her own tears to stay within her eyes. She was fighting. By God, what a thing he had done!  
  
Molly stood up, letting the tears spill over.   
  
"Molly." Arthur said quietly, smiling. "I love you."  
  
Molly looked infuriated. She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her small little wrists before she could get the chance. For a few seconds, they just stood there, Arthur, extremely confused and Molly, bearing unimaginable greif.  
  
"No you don't!" she shrieked. "You can't! Stop it, Arthur! This is a horrible joke! A horrible terrible joke! It's all a lie, don't you see?"  
  
"Molly, I'm serious." Arthur said.  
  
"Like the time you told me that you'd never hurt me?" Molly asked him, with a cold tone.  
  
Arthur fell mute for a few moments, knowing that he had no excuse for it.  
  
"Don't you understand, Molly?" He said.   
  
"No." she whispered. "No, I don't." She took her hands away. "I don't understand why people have to fall in love just so they can get their hearts broken. I don't understand why people lay their heart down before another, knowing full and well it's bound to get crushed sooner or later. I don't understand why I had to fall in love."   
  
"My Molly." Arthur said. "I want you to marry me."   
  
Molly looked utterly shocked and horrified that this, boy, standing before her had asked her to marry him. She turned around, and ran into the school.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
He couldn't stop thinking about her. Until he got her response, he couldn't leave this cursed school. Seth sat beside him, arm around Mai Cho. Jerry Chang glared daggers at him across the room, as he had his eye on Mai.  
  
"Mister Weasley." Dumbledore said. "Will you please tell us all what the formula for a tesseract charm is?"  
  
"I don't know, sir." Arthur said.  
  
The bell rang for the class change.  
  
"Please stay after class, Mister Weasley." Dumbledore said.  
  
Arthur watched his classmates file out of the room. He sighed and walked to the front of the room, towards Dumbledore's desk.   
  
"You seem, distracted, Mister Weasley." He said. "You've not been studying, and your last year at Hogwart's is the most important."  
  
"I don't intend to finish my Seventh Year." Arthur said.  
  
"I see." Dumbledore nodded. "So why are you still here?"  
  
"Beg pardon, sir?"  
  
"What's stopping you from getting on your broomstick and flying away from this place? Nothing's in your way. There's obviously something holding you back."  
  
"I proposed to her." Arthur shouted, suddenly at a loss for self-control. "And she just looked at me, sir! I spilled my heart out to her and she just looks at me! My God, I love her with all my heart. All I want is to be with her for the rest of my life, sir. Is that so wrong? Is it?"  
  
Dumbledore was silent for a few seconds. "No, Mister Weasley. No, it is not wrong, but rather the nature of the human heart. No one can blame you."  
  
"What should I do, sir?" Arthur asked.  
  
"Fly her away, Mister Weasley." Dumbledore smiled. "Fly her away."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
He found her sitting in the Great Hall, staring at the table. Her hair wasn't as stringy as before, but he didn't notice. He needed to talk to her. He needed to --- what was it that crazy man had said? Oh, yes, "Fly her away."  
  
"Molly!" He said, grabbing her wrist and hoisting her up.   
  
"Arthur." She said in surprise  
  
"I need to know." He said. "I need to know if you love me back. If you don't, then I'll just go. I'll be out of your life forever. So, just tell me, Molly."  
  
"Arthur, I can't." She said, her voice trembling. "Don't you see?"   
  
Arthur was silent, blinded by his anger, not at Molly, but at himself. He let her wrist go and shrugged.  
  
"I guess I do." He said. "Listen to me, Molly. I'm not going to beg you for your love. I can't promise that you'll never get hurt. I can't even promise you a nice house. I know, that with my education, the best I could possibly get is a small flat in the country on some rich man's land."  
  
Molly was silent.  
  
"Who am I kidding?" Arthur asked her. "You don't want me, a poor little peasant. Girls only liked me because I was rich off of my parent's money. I don't want their money anymore, Molly. I understand, now. I can't give you anything but poverty and a fool's love."  
  
Arthur shrugged and walked away, out of the great hall.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly lay on her bed and wept bitterly. Why didn't she say yes? The only thing she wanted was to be Arthur's wife. To love him and have him love her. She was a fool! A damned fool! How could she be so naive?  
  
"Molly?" Lily said, coming in the room. "Molly what's wrong?"  
  
Molly sat up and wiped her eyes.   
  
"Nothing. I've just thrown away the chance to marry the love of my life." Molly sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do."  
  
"Kiss him." Lily said, smiling. "That always works with James."  
  
"Lily, dear." Molly laughed. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Well, whenever James is upset or angry, I kiss him on the cheek. He turns red as a cinnamon Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean and is suddenly at a loss for words." Lily said. "It comes in handy, you know."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Arthur sat in the Quidditch Pitch, blankly watching his broom float before him. He had cast a levitation spell on it and just stared at it. If he left school now, then what would he be working for? What would he have to come home to at night? He knew, for a fact, he would never find anyone like Molly. He knew, he would grow old lonely and wonder where she was.   
  
"Arthur?"   
  
"What do you want?" Arthur said, not turning his head. "What do you want from a peasant and a fool, Molly?"  
  
Molly came and sat beside him on the damp grass.   
  
"You're not a fool, Arthur. You're not a peasant, either. Don't say that." Molly said.   
  
Arthur didn't respond, knowing it was pointless to bring up the subject of marriage to her. Molly smiled at him and stood him. She looked at his broom.  
  
"I don't understand the point of Quidditch." She said. "You fly around and fall down once or twice. You get bloodied up real good. What is it for? If you've won, that's good for you. But then what, Arthur?"   
  
Arthur watched Molly sit delicately down on the broom.   
  
"I'll give these broomsticks one thing, though." She said. "They make very comfortable seats."  
  
That crazy old man! Arthur suddenly thought. What was it that he said, again? Dumbledore, what did he say? 'Fly her away...' Arthur smiled.   
  
"Crazy old coot." He muttered.   
  
"What was that?" Molly asked wispily.   
  
"Ever ride on a broomstick, Molly dearest?"   
  
"Arthur, wha--"  
  
He didn't even wait for a response. Wordlessly, he jumped on the broom behind her and kicked off, hard, from the damp ground. The broom, although it was an old model, sped upwards, towards the full moon in the sky. He felt Molly against his chest and felt her excited fear.  
  
"What in God's name are you doing Arthur Weasley?" She shrieked into the wind.  
  
"Isn't it obvious, Molly dear?" Arthur said, feeling her beautiful hair in his face. "I'm flying you away."  
  
"Arthur!" Molly shrieked as he flew through the Quidditch hoop.  
  
He reached his hands forward to clasp over hers. Her small body seemed to tense up as he did so.  
  
"Trust me, Molly Elaine Eloise." He said.  
  
She seemed to relax after he said this. Her nervous shaking seemed to stop and he could feel her laughing in front of him. What a beautiful laugh, he thought. What a beautiful name. What a beautiful girl.  
  
"Arthur." Molly said. "I take it back."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I want to marry you, Arthur Weasley!" She said happily. "I want to marry you!"  
  
Shock hit him suddenly. It was a sudden smack in the heart for him, as if his heart had just been awakened from its mourning state. He lost all control of his hands and they sped downwards towards the ground. He tried to pull up from the ground and he thought he managed to. The very top of his broomstick caught the ground and the two of them toppled off of the broomstick and back onto the wet ground.  
  
The two of them lay there, next to each other, laughing and panting. Arthur felt so exhilarated. He rolled over and looked at Molly, with her eyes closed and a laughing expression on her face.  
  
"Do you mean it, Molly Elaine Eloise?" He asked her. "Do you want to marry a peasant and a fool who can only promise you a blind love and a small house?"  
  
Molly smiled sheepishly and turned to kiss him on the lips. And, out of all the girls Arthur Weasley had kissed, this was the only one that meant anything to him. And he had a feeling that it would be the only one that ever meant anything to him.  
  
Ever.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly came back to the Girl's Dormitory around midnight, in a natural euphoria of love. She hummed a lovely love song that she had heard on the muggle radio that summer. As she clicked on the light, she found most of the girls awake, either doing last minute homework or painting their fingernails or, like most, exchanging chewy bits of gossip. Molly took her scarf off lay it neatly in her trunk over her dress robes. She took a look at her ring finger, smiling. Since Arthur hadn't a proper engagement ring, he had given her the Hogwart's Insignia ring, only given to Seventh Year Quidditch Captains. It was extremely rare and valuable and only four were made every year. The little lion engraved on it seemed to sparkle at her.   
  
"What's that, Molly?" Lily said, looking at it with an eager curiosity.   
  
"Oh, it's nothing." Molly said, keenly aware of the girls listening in on the conversation.  
  
"Isn't that the Gryffindor Insignia ring? Only given to the Quidditch Captain of Gryffindor? Only given to none other then Arthur Weasley who everyone knows has his eye on you?" Dana Creevey asked.  
  
"Maybe." Molly said, trying hard to keep her voice from shaking.  
  
"You know, you can tell me if he proposed to you." Dana whispered in Molly's ear. "I plan to be a single mother."  
  
"Why would you want to do that?" Molly asked.  
  
"Don't you know?" Dana asked. "Men always get in the way of raising a child. They don't know anything at all!"  
  
"Oh." was all Molly said.  
  
"I hope that my son doesn't want to be one of those annoying photography people, always cameras in your face." Dana cringed. "They're so annoying. But, I guess, I would love him, even if he did turn out like that."  
  
"Molly." Lily said. "Are you going to marry Arthur?"   
  
The whole dormitory was staring at her now. She felt her cheeks flush a slight pink as she fiddled with the ring around her finger.  
  
"Yes." She said, quietly at first. "Yes! And I don't give a damn what any of you think of it!"  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Professor Dumbledore?" Arthur said.  
  
Dumbledore looked up from the stack of essays he had graded and towards the clock sitting on his desk. He looked at Arthur disapprovingly.  
  
"It's midnight, Mister Weasley. I could very well give you a month's worth of detention for being out this late."  
  
"I know, sir."  
  
"Is something troubling you, Mister Weasley?"  
  
"Well, sir, weren't you the Guardian of the Elopers at one point?"  
  
The old man paused before answering. "Yes, I was." Dumbledore said, leaning back. "I wed runaway couples, before. During my first year I worked as Caretaker at Hogwart's. How did you get this information?"  
  
"Please, sir." Arthur said, slamming his hands down on Dumbledore's desk. "I need to get married to Molly."  
  
"You do know if I am caught I could be fired from my job? The consequences will be great for me and for you." He said gravely.  
  
Arthur said nothing.  
  
"But," Dumbledore said, putting his hand on Arthur's. "I believe that in this particular case, I can make an exception."  
  
"Really?" Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, sir!"   
  
"Yes, yes." Dumbledore smiled. "I believe that great things will come from you and Molly Eloise."  
  
"And I believe, Professor Dumbledore, that one day, you will be a great Headmaster of Hogwart's."  
  
"No one likes a teacher's pet, Mister Weasley." Dumbledore smiled. "Now get to bed."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Long after Arthur had gone, Dumbledore stopped grading papers and opened the hidden compartment in his desk. Within it, he kept a picture of every child to come from the couples he had wed. Little did he know that, eventually, the drawer would contain seven little redheads. He smiled and closed the drawer.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore." He said, smiling. "I like it."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
There was a knock at the Girls' Dormitory door. It was one in the morning, and all of the girls (with the exception of Molly) were still awake, continuing to gossip. Lily was sitting beside Molly's bed, asking her a million questions of love. Molly, on the other hand, was half asleep, trying to answer the best she could. Little Lily fascinated her, with her bright green eyes and beautiful soft hair. She knew how to apply make up like an expert, even though she was only twelve years old. Did all muggle born girls know how to do their make up before they were twelve?  
  
"Who's there?" the girl closest to the door asked.   
  
"Arthur. I need to see Molly."  
  
"Oh, hello Arthur." the girl said, getting up. "I'm afraid she's asleep at the moment. Would you like me to wake her?"  
  
"If you would." Arthur said, feeling suddenly guilty about waking Molly.  
  
The girl walked over the velvet carpet to where Molly and Lily were.   
  
"Molly, dear." the girl said. "Arthur Weasley's here to --"  
  
Molly threw the covers off of her bed and ran half way across the dormitory towards the door, tripping over several magazines and girl's bodies, laid lazily across the floor. When she reached Arthur, she felt flushed.  
  
"Arthur." She said.  
  
"Molly, I'm sorry." He said. "For waking you up, I mean."  
  
"No, no, it's alright." Molly said.  
  
Arthur was suddenly aware of the herd of girls in the Dormitory. They all had stopped what they were doing and were listening intently to their conversation. Molly stepped out of the Dormitory and into the hallway, closing the door behind her.  
  
"Is something wrong?" She asked him.   
  
"Of course not." He smiled. "I just talked to Dumbledore."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"And he said, that he would marry us. He used to be the 'Guardian of Elopers', did you know?"   
  
"Arthur, that's wonderful!" Molly cried, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, but, Arthur ... "  
  
"What? What's wrong?"  
  
"I've no wedding dress. I've nothing nice to wear except a ratty pair of periwinkle dress robes that are too big."  
  
"Molly dearest." Arthur laughed.   
  
"And my hair." Molly started to tear. "It's so ugly and stringy. Oh, Arthur, I must be the most ugly bride in the history of the universe! And, oh Arthur!"  
  
"Calm down, Molly." Arthur chuckled. "Your beautiful. No shampoo or ratty pair of dress robes is going to change that, Love."  
  
"Are you sure?" Molly asked him, smiling.  
  
He leaned down to kiss her on the fore head.  
  
"I hope that's a yes, Mister Weasley."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Arthur Weasley. Mrs. Elaine Eloise Weasley. It was all Molly could think, prior to her wedding. They were to be wed on December 5th. They were to be wed at the stroke of midnight. There was something about that date that made Molly think of snowflakes and hope. Well, that was until December 4th. On December 4th, the day before her wedding, all Molly could think about was what a horrible bride she would make.  
  
"Molly, relax." Dana said. "It's Saturday. Tomorrow's your wedding. Just relax."  
  
"Relax?" Molly's voice squeaked. "I can't possibly relax, you fool!"  
  
"Tell you what, Molly." Dana said, shining her prefect badge on her robes. "I'll give you the password to the Prefect's bath. You go and get all nice and clean. Then, little Lily here will do your make up."  
  
Molly barely heard what Dana said. She seemed more interested in her shaking hands.  
  
"Relax, Molly." Lily said. "It'll be just fine."   
  
"Just fine." Molly smiled, looking at her green-eyed companion. "You're right, Lily. It'll all be just fine."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Arthur lay on his bed, his trunk all packed. He had been rehearsing the entire wedding in his head. Married at seventeen! It seemed so impossible when he was sixteen, that just a year later, he would be a married man. What in God's name had possessed him to ask Molly to marry him? And, right away, he knew that answer. People do crazy things when they're in love. It was a proven scientific fact. He turned his head and saw James Potter staring at him, his round glasses falling down on his nose.  
  
"Are you really going to get married?" He asked him, wide eyed.  
  
"I guess I am." Arthur said, knowing that all of the boys in the dormitory were listening.  
  
"Well, then." James said timidly. "I need to ask you something about women. I'm having, well, difficulties."  
  
"Women problems?" Arthur chuckled.  
  
"This is very serious, Arthur." James said. "Lily must be the single most annoying little girl on this planet."  
  
"So?" Arthur said, sitting up. "Don't you have other little friends you can go and get into trouble with?"  
  
"Of course I do." James said. "I've got Peter and Sirius and Remus. I've lots of friends."  
  
"Well, surely, you could do without Lily for a while." Arthur said.   
  
"Yes, but--" James paused. "She's so weird."  
  
"Is weird a bad thing?"  
  
"No!" James exclaimed. "I like weird people. Normal people are so boring, Arthur."  
  
"Hey!" Seth called, plopping down on Arthur's bed. "Scoot, little James Potter. Arthur and I have big boy things to talk about."  
  
James shuffled quickly away, where Peter Pettigrew joined him. "Look, at my new rat, James!"   
  
Arthur swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked at his friend, lying on his bed, looking quite comfortable.  
  
"I tell ya'!" Seth said. "They come up with the craziest rumors!"  
  
"Oh, they do?"  
  
"There's this one, going around about you and Lolly--"  
  
"Molly." Arthur corrected.  
  
"Right, right. Molly." Seth waved it off. "Well, they say that the two of you are going to go eloping --- tonight!"  
  
"And?" Arthur said.  
  
"And? God, Arthur, your reputation just flew out the window and into a pile of manure! This stupid rumor's got to be stopped if you want to save your social status!"  
  
"Who said it was a rumor?"   
  
Seth blinked. "What? Arthur Weasley, you're going to get married to the outcast? You're getting married to that ugly little--"  
  
"Careful." Arthur said. "I might feel like breaking your nose again."  
  
"Hey, sorry, Arthur." Seth said. "But, don't you think it'll be a bit of a loss to be available to all of those round curly girls still out there for you to snog and leave?"  
  
"I'm sure," Arthur said. "that you would enjoy torturing those poor, clueless girls, Seth."  
  
"What's the matter with you?" Seth asked. "It's like you've grown up all of the sudden!" Seth shook his head. "Whatever, Arthur."   
  
As Seth get off of Arthur's bed, grabbed his own broom and walked out of the door (his springy step now slow and unsure) Arthur felt a sudden guilt. But, why should he be guilty? Because he couldn't be that immature little boyfriend that everyone knew and loved? Because he knew he could give his devoted love to one girl and one girl alone for the rest of his days without ever seeing another girl, as attractive as Molly for the rest of his life? He smiled as he thought of his beautiful bride. He glanced at the clock. 9:36 It seemed so impossible that in only a few hours, he would be married to the girl of his dreams.  
  
It all seemed like a dream.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Lollipop." Molly said to the tapestry concealing the Prefect's bath. The tapestry rolled itself up and revealed a heavy wooden door that swung open slowly. Molly clutched her bath things and stepped inside.  
  
The water was warm. She tried to relax. She washed her hair with Lily's shampoo. She lathered it over and over and over until her skin started to prune. She drained the tub and put on her school robes. She didn't feel like brushing her hair at that place and time, so she tied it up in a messy ponytail.  
  
"Your hair smells wonderful," said Lily, as she removed the ponytail, later in the common room. "You must've actually followed the directions."  
  
Lily started the process of brushing the tangled locks of Molly's hair. Molly's hair hung loose just below her shoulders when it was tangled and not brushed.  
  
"Surprisingly," Lily commented. "Your hair isn't getting tangled."   
  
"My hair is going to fall out, isn't it?" Molly moaned. "I'm going to be ugly and horrid looking. I'm a failure as a bride!"  
  
"Oh, Molly!" Lily said, putting down the hairbrush and handing her a mirror. "Arthur's going to drop dead when he sees you."  
  
Molly sighed and looked in the mirror. The face was the same, the same pale face with the cheeks bones poking from beneath the skin. The eyes were the same, those ugly misted blue eyes that she hated so much. The freckles were still sprayed across the bridge of her nose (Arthur didn't have freckles! she thought. Why should they BOTH have red hair, and HE not have freckles?) But, the beautiful hair framing her face was not her own, she knew. It was some other girl's with a high spirit. It was long and soft and beautiful red hair. Not at all her stringy thin, short hair that she woke up to every morning.  
  
She took her quivering hand and touched the hair that now lay on her head.   
  
"Oh, my." she managed to stutter. "Lily, I can't believe this! Wow!"  
  
"Oh, I know." Lily sighed. "If only I could get my sister, Petunia, to try some. She's so terribly thin and scornful. She's got stringy hair just like yours used to be. But she just hates me, Molly! I didn't even do anything to her. Well, except be born, but I don't think that's my fault entirely."  
  
"No, Lily." Molly sighed, looking at the girl in the mirror thoughtfully. "It's not your fault at all."  
  
~-~-~-~-  
  
He took her hand.   
  
Molly's hand was pleasantly warm and it shook with an excited fear. A fear of the unknown. A fear of the life ahead of her that was shrouded in a mystery not even God himself could make clear. A fear of living with this man that stood in front of her for the rest of her life. A fear of believing. A fear of letting herself be a fool and love for all it was worth. A fear of putting her heart on a chopping board and hoping and praying and believing that the hand that came down would cherish her heart rather then beating it. A fear of taking this man's last name and giving hers.   
  
"I am afraid." She admitted, almost guiltily.  
  
"It's okay." Arthur said, smiling gently.  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Molly." He sighed. "I'm terrified out of mind right now."  
  
Arthur had almost dropped dead when he saw Molly. Her periwinkle robes were still ratty, her scrawny figure hidden within them. Her hair was full and wavy and well, beautiful. But the thing that blew Arthur Weasley away was the look of fear that flooded her unsure, pale face. He smiled.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at the two.  
  
Both of them, unsure of the future, oblivious to the past and only living in the future, stepped into a new territory.   
  
~-~-~-~  
  
Platform 9 and 3/4 seemed like such a lonely place to be two days after their wedding. Arthur had officially resigned from school and had already applied to a job. He smiled at the girl that stood before him.   
  
"I'm going to miss you Arthur." She said.  
  
"I know you will, My Molly." He said. "But you wouldn't want to come home from school and find we've nowhere to live."  
  
"Right." Molly smiled.   
  
Arthur took her hand and kissed it just before he walked down the platform and through the brick wall to the muggle world. Molly stood there for a long time staring at where he had gone through, as if he might come back any second now and take her with him. She shook her head and half laughed.  
  
"Goodbye, Arthur." she said. "Goodbye." 


	4. Love Letters

Love Letters  
  
"Dearest Arthur,  
  
Things have been so drab since you've left. Gryffindor has lost all of its games to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. There really is no question about how they'll do against Slytherin tomorrow. The team has seemed to fall apart without you. I watch the Quidditch Games now, I sit with Lily Evans, and you know her, right? (She was the one that helped me with my hair on our wedding night.) James Potter is the Seeker, but he's so scrawny and small that the giant beaters and chasers on the opposing teams have no problem knocking him around.  
  
I've no heart to do homework. I only do it when it counts (or I'm extremely bored.) But all I seem to do now is write letters to you, Arthur. I do hope you're very well. Did you get that new job you wanted at the Ministry? Oh, I hope you did, for your sake! You'd make a wonderful Auror, you truly would. But, oh Arthur! You'd be gone for such a long time if you were an Auror. You'd be on dangerous and life threatening missions leaving me alone, making me feel like some old -- widow! (God forbid!) I'm not sure I could take that, Dearest.  
  
I've thought of something (more as a mediocre joke then anything else) that I thought was cute. Well, Dearest, if we got a house and we called it "The Burrow" then we'd be the "Weasley's" in a burrow!   
  
Love,  
  
Your Molly"  
  
"My Molly--  
  
Going to the ministry today was the single most horrible sense of injustice I've ever encountered in my life! So what if I didn't finish school? So what if I dropped out? As you said, I would make a remarkable Auror if these stupid gits would give me a chance! I know I could! But, these gits just won't give me a chance because I've not been "properly trained." I know if I could just prove myself to them! I hope you won't hate me for this, My Molly, but I had to find work somewhere. So, I'm starting out as a Janitor working in the Ministry. It's the only job I could find that actual pays real money. It's only three Knuts an hour.   
  
My Molly, I'm afraid we'll be poor all of our lives!  
  
--Arthur "  
  
"Dearest Arthur--  
  
Oh, Arthur! Nothing in this world could ever make me hate you, Dearest! And, I'm truly sorry you could not get the job you wanted. I'm sure that if you could only prove yourself that you could. I guess those Ministry Workers have had their noses up so high in the air for so long that they've truly forgotten what was going on below. And, Dearest, I think you'll make a wonderful janitor. Why, I believe that the Ministry will have never been cleaner since the day you put that mop to the floor!  
  
Nothing's really new here. I've gotten my test scores back on my N.E.W.T's. My, Arthur, from our test scores, I believe that we'll have truly dumb children! Of course, I don't want them to be dumb, but with our intellects, how could they be anything else? I've gotten myself a failing grade in Potions and Herbology. I've a minimum pass in the rest of the tests. They were terribly hard, my Dear! You could've at least warned me before I took them. Out of innocent (or bored?) curiosity, who do you think wrote these tests? They must've had absolutely no life, and must've memorized every book in the world!  
  
I sat in the Astronomy Tower last night, looking at the stars. And, it gave me such comfort to know that you were looking up at the same stars as I, Dearest. My only wish, now, is that we will look at the stars together in our little "Burrow." What a wonderful thing it would be! Now, it seems so very far away. I love you.  
  
Love,  
  
Your Molly"  
  
"My Molly--  
  
I'm glad that you can find comfort in things you find at Hogwart's. I've never looked at the stars from that perspective before, but I reckon I'll give it a try one of these days. It would be comforting to know we share something, although we are many miles apart.   
  
I keep all your letters in my pockets and reread them over and over during my breaks. I work ten hours a day and sleep in the supply closet at night. It's not so bad, really. The rats are fairly interesting. They're like humans in a way. Wizard rats are so much more interesting then muggle rats. Wizard rats have, well, emotion, my dear. There's one rat, (Patches, I call him) that's got himself two little rat girlfriends. Except, one of his little rat girlfriends (Lucy) has gone and had an affair with another boy rat (Luke). I don't think that Patches should be offended, because he has his other little rat girlfriend (Sally) to fall back on. Sally appears to be very fond of him, but now that Lucy has gone off with Luke, all he can think about is Lucy.   
  
  
  
--Arthur"  
  
"Dearest Arthur--  
  
It fascinates (and worries) me that you can find such entertainment by watching rats. I didn't know rats could actually have affairs. I've actually gone into the School owlery a few times and found that owls (like your rats) can be especially flirtatious and jealous. I don't doubt your observations, and I don't doubt mine either, but I strongly suspect we are the only Wizards in this entire world (nay, Universe!) that care about the welfare and love lives of creatures. It's a bit sad, really.   
  
Lily and James bicker all of the time. They won't quit it. James keeps prodding her to act more boyish (play Quidditch in her skirt, climb trees, swim in the lake, provoke the Giant Squid, etc.) and Lily keeps insisting that he sit down and enjoy the beauty of nature more with her. I know what you are thinking, Arthur, that I said that these two would get married some day and now you want to know what I have to say. Well, I say this: I stand by what I said that day. Lily Evans and James Potter will get married one day! They say that two people that argue a lot truly care about each other. I think it's adorable!  
  
There's a student teacher here, now. She's only twenty-three, but they say that she's the cleverest witch they've ever seen. I don't believe it, but Arthur, she is very much prettier then I am. Her name is Minerva. She's very concentrated and disciplined and never leaves Professor Con's side. It's a bit scary. She's always taking notes like she's the student instead of the Student Teacher. Since she is so young, she'll have to be assistant teacher for a few years. But, I assure you, Arthur, when she does become a full-fledged professor; I'd advice those students to run! Minerva's scary when she gets mad!  
  
  
  
I wish you well in all of your mopping adventures, Dearest.  
  
Love,  
  
Your Molly."  
  
"My Molly--  
  
Sometimes, in that cramped up little supply closet, I lay awake at night, thinking of how beautiful you are. My Molly, I cannot wait to see you this summer. I only hope that I can have a house leased by then. I want to hold you until my arms fall off; I'm so much in love with you! I've a picture of you and I hanging in my small supply closet. Molly, sometimes I feel like a silly teenager in love, but I know, that I am indeed a full-fledged adult in the work force and should learn to act like it.   
  
It is so hard at times, My Molly.  
  
What Malfoy would say if he saw me here! Does he tease you terribly at school? What about Seth? I'll kill them both if they've said a single nasty word to you, Molly. I hope you're well. The school year is almost over and it seems just yesterday that I started working in this miserable place they call the Ministry of Magic. It is March, according to my calendar. Why do the days always go by slower when you want something to happen just that very minute?  
  
--Arthur  
  
My Molly--  
  
You have not written in a month. I'm beginning to get worried about you.  
  
--Arthur  
  
My Molly--  
  
I've gotten the house, my dear!! Last night, I went in and lay on the carpeted floors (yes, dear! carpeted just like you wanted!) and just relaxed for once in my life! The owner took pity on a poor lovesick boy like myself and, oh Molly, it doesn't even matter now! We've a place to live! This is where we'll raise our children! Oh, you must see it; it's a little house in a valley. It's on the land of some rich man named David Love. (What you would say to that name, I can only imagine!) My Molly, I will meet you at Platform 9 and 3/4 on June 13th.   
  
I love you!"  
  
"Dearest Arthur--  
  
I'm afraid. I'm afraid you will leave me if I tell you what has happened to me. I'm scared you will find another girl to give your love to: Another girl that will not become what I have. Arthur, I can't bear to look at myself in the mirror anymore. I couldn't even bear to write you for weeks and it just killed me.   
  
Arthur, I'm pregnant."  
  
"My Molly--  
  
I've read your letter over and over, read it upside down and translated it into three different languages. My Molly, I cannot believe this! I wasn't expecting this so soon. You'll never finish your Seventh Year at Hogwart's. Molly, I so wanted you to complete your Hogwart's education. But, a child! Just the thought of me, a lowly Janitor with overgrown bangs as a father! I can't believe it My Molly! I just cannot! I've come up with a few names, you've said it was a girl, have you?  
  
Louise  
  
Nancy  
  
Catherine  
  
Lavender  
  
Blythe  
  
Beatrice  
  
Annie  
  
Marie  
  
Molly (My first choice!)  
  
Sarah  
  
--Arthur (the father to be!)  
  
"Dearest Arthur--  
  
We are not naming the poor child after me, Arthur Weasley! Do you have any idea what it would turn out like if we did? Why, with stringy hair and the thinnest eyebrows and thin lips, it'd be very strange looking child. I finally get to come home to you tomorrow, My Love.   
  
Good Night.  
  
--Your Molly  
  
P.S. I believe that this is to be the last love letter, perhaps one day we could show our children this and they could laugh their silly little heads off at us at how much in love we were!"  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly clutched the money in her hand anxiously. She had sold all of her items to a second hand Hogwart's store for a hundred galleons (not a bad deal!) and hoped to surprise Arthur with a few extra coins in his pocket. She knew that Arthur didn't eat much, and she had read somewhere that pregnant women ate more then women who weren't. Molly sighed. What a waste of money she would be!  
  
She stepped off of the train, bearing a weary smile. Feeling oddly tired, she leaned against one of the brick poles and waited for Arthur.  
  
~-~-~-~  
  
He hadn't gotten his bangs trimmed since August. They had gotten to be rather long and annoying. He ran his hand through them and pushed them back, so they lay messily on the top of his head only to fall back down and brush against his eyes the next second. Arthur sighed and trucked them hopelessly behind his ears as he grabbed the Floo powder from next to the fireplace. He would have apparated, but it was prohibited within the muggle land where he was.  
  
"Platform 9 and 3/4." He said.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
He coughed and sputtered up ashes as he fell out of the fireplace and onto the pavement in front of a Wizard family. They shrieked in surprise and went around him, muttering curses under their breath. Arthur picked himself up and groaned. He should at least look half presentable for Molly. He was covered in ashes and was wearing his old school uniform (he had no other clothes except his work clothes). He smoothed his hair back again and to his disgust (or ultimate benefit) the dirt and grime from the ashes helped it stick to the top of his head, so it no longer brushed against his eyes.   
  
He searched among the hurrying crowd of students and parents, all exiting Hogwarts. He searched for the familiar glow of red hair that he knew so well.   
  
"Arthur!"  
  
It was horribly ironic that girl Molly's size (five foot one) could topple a person Arthur's size (six foot). But, nevertheless, she did. They both fell onto the sidewalk, laughing and hugging, never so happy to see each other.   
  
"Get up, you silly prat!" Molly laughed, getting up, extending her hand to help him.   
  
"Oh, God." he said, when he got up. "I've missed, you Molly."  
  
"You better have, Arthur Weasley." she smiled  
  
~-~-~-  
  
They took a taxi to the small house that Arthur had bought from the rich muggle man. They waited a good five minutes, to make sure the taxi driver didn't turn around when he realized that they had been short two pounds. Molly stood, with her small hands clasped tightly, just staring at the small home that stood before her.  
  
"Wow." she breathed, taking a step forward.  
  
The house was just a small cabin; it couldn't have had more then one bedroom and a bathroom with just enough room for a small kitchen and perhaps a family room. It looked like a large tool shed, but Molly loved it. She turned around to her husband, who looked surprisingly sorry.  
  
"I know it's not much, Molly." he shrugged, smiling.  
  
"Arthur, I love it!" she cried, throwing her arms around him.  
  
"Y-you do?" he said, his voice squeaking.  
  
"Oh, yes!" Molly said. "And woods in the back of it. Arthur, it's the most perfect house I've ever seen!"  
  
Arthur didn't dare to question what Molly saw in the small house. It was dirty, it was small and stingy and smelled like pine in the inside. He found the smell of pine repulsive, since he had spent so much time near the pine cleaners in the Ministry. He took the hand of his young wife and led her into the small house.   
  
~-~-~-~  
  
It seemed so odd that the small house, with the furniture seeming so big in the small space, could possibly feel so empty! Molly lay on the soft bed. It was a secondhand mattress and if she slept to the far to the left, the bed would fall off of the stand and the both of them would end up the on the floor. The bed wasn't exactly meant for two people. It would've been very comfortable, indeed, for one person. Every night, Arthur would come home late, exhausted and dirty. All Molly wanted was to provide a nice, warm, tasty dinner for her husband when he came home. She wanted to sit with him, and pick at his back, telling him that he needed to gain weight. She wanted to smile as he said, "Molly, this is delicious." with his mouth full. She would press her own finger on his mouth and say quietly, "Not when you're mouth is full, Dearest." There was only one problem with this childish fantasy of Molly's.  
  
She couldn't cook.  
  
They had a perfectly functional stove and cauldron heater. Molly hadn't been very smart in school, and cooking spells were completely lost in her textbook that she had sold when he had left (dropped out, rather) of Hogwart's. The only thing she could find that she could cook were chocolate chip cookies that tasted old and stale and burnt. She tried to cover it up with sugar and sprinkles, but it just didn't work. She had tried to cook a piece chicken before, but someway or another, it ended up walking across the floor, with Molly staring hopelessly at it. When Arthur came home that night, he asked if she had any dinner for him and she sullenly replied "It's running across the floor, if you can catch it, you can eat it." Arthur had simply laughed when she had said this and burst into hopeless tears, wailing about what a horrible housewife she was.  
  
"Not many housewives could set their chicken running across the floor." He laughed.  
  
"But, you work so hard!" she sobbed. "I just want you to have something warm to come back to when you get home."  
  
"Molly," he chuckled. "this cabin is an inferno in the summer. I think that's warm enough for me to come home to."  
  
She wiped her tears on her sleeve, and smiled sheepishly at Arthur.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Not working today?" she asked Arthur, bringing him a fresh batch of burnt cookies.   
  
"No." he answered shortly, taking a cookie.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked.   
  
Arthur was quiet for a long time. Molly knew not to press for information. Although it killed her that Arthur wouldn't tell her what was wrong, she respected his right not to tell her some things for her own good. Molly put the cookies back in the kitchen and thought of what she could've possibly done wrong. It couldn't have been her cooking; he'd forgiven her for not being able to cook months ago. She had washed the bed sheets this morning, pressed them with Lavender. She had rid the house of the disgusting pine smell with a simple incantation she knew from First Year. Maybe Arthur was just tired of her!   
  
"There's not enough." He snapped suddenly from the other room.  
  
He'd never had a temper with her before.  
  
"E-enough of what, Arthur?"   
  
"There's not enough money," he said angrily, ripping an envelope labeled in bright red letters "LAST CHANCE TO PAY UP WEASLEY!!"  
  
"Oh." Molly said. Money was something she never interfered in.  
  
"Is that all you can say?" He suddenly yelled, getting up from the wooden chair he was sitting in. "All you do is lay around all day and mope about what a hopeless case you are! You don't even have to worry about money, Molly!"  
  
He had never yelled at her before.  
  
"I-I'm sorry." she said pleadingly, suddenly wishing that she could cook just so she could request that they talk about this over dinner.  
  
"Damn it all!" He yelled, kicking the chair over. "Maybe this was all a mistake! Maybe everything was a mistake!"  
  
"Even our getting married?" Molly asked unsurely.   
  
He turned towards her, glaring at her for a long time.  
  
"I need to go for a walk." He said.  
  
He slammed the door behind him.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly stood there, trying so hard not to cry. It was all her fault! If only she had studied in school, she could've had a solid job and supported herself! If only she was smart! If only she could cook! Molly swallowed her tears and wiped her dry eyes. She bent down slowly and picked up the chair that Arthur had kicked her. Molly suddenly felt so old, carrying a child and getting in a war with her husband about money. She grabbed her cloak and grabbed a hand full of Floo Powder.  
  
"Gringott's."  
  
The Goblin stared down at her as if she was asking something unspeakable His beady little eyes seamed to be staring into her very soul.  
  
"What did you say your name was?"  
  
"Molly Weasley." she said. "Vault 223. I've my key."   
  
She held up the small key.  
  
"Weasley." The Goblin said. "Is not in good terms with this bank. Weasley is the name of the man and his wife who have some debt that needs to be paid or will be living in the woods."  
  
"Please, sir." Molly pleaded. "Let me make a withdrawal from my Vault. I'll pay it with the money in there."  
  
"According to my files." the Goblin said. "If you were to do that, there would be no money left in Vault 223."  
  
"I know." Molly said quietly.  
  
Vault 223 contained Molly's school money. Since she planned to go back to Hogwart's one day, she saved up a few galleons for her tuition. One day, Molly hoped to own a sweets shop in Hogsmeade. She knew it was a stupid little childish dream, but the few coins in her Vault were the only things that went towards her dream. Arthur had forbid her to spend any of her money in Vault 223. He wanted to see her finish Hogwart's, too.   
  
The Goblin did a few things with his short wand and handed her two knuts.   
  
"What's this?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Call it a donation." The Goblin smiled cruelly.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Arthur had gone into the backyard to chop wood for their stove. He would've used magic, but he needed to put his anger somewhere. Taking it out on Molly didn't work very well. He felt sorry for yelling at her for absolutely no good reason. What a complete jerk he was to yell at poor Molly, who was only trying her hardest to do things for him. She made the sheets smell like Lavender and rid of the horrid scent of pine that she liked, but he hated.   
  
When he came in two hours later, she wasn't there.  
  
He began to get worried. He never remembered Molly leaving their land except to go to the market, and even then, she would leave him a note. The chair he had kicked over was now upright. The batch of burnt cookies still sat idly on the kitchen table, not touched.   
  
There was a knock at the front door.  
  
Molly came in covered in ash.   
  
"Where've you been?" he asked, angry.  
  
"Here." She said, putting the two knuts in his big hand.  
  
"What's this?"   
  
"What does it look like?"   
  
He looked at the two knuts.  
  
"Were you out begging?" he asked.  
  
"No." Molly said quickly.  
  
"Then, where'd you get the money?"  
  
"Ii can't tell you."  
  
"You were out begging, weren't you?" He accused.  
  
"No! Arthur, you must believe me, I wasn't out begging!" She said, grabbing his arm.   
  
He ripped his arm away and stalked into their room slamming the door and locking it behind him.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly leaned against the door to their bedroom. She let the tears come down her cheeks. She wasn't a beggar. She would never, ever beg for money. She wouldn't even ask for it. Even though she would do anything for her family, she wouldn't resort to petty begging.  
  
"Arthur." She sobbed. "I paid the bills. You were so upset, and I felt so useless. I used the money from my School Money. I didn't want you to get angry. You work so hard and I just wanted to do something for you for a change."  
  
Molly paused.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Arthur." she whispered.  
  
The door flew open and Arthur looked down at the woman laying on the floor, half asleep and sobbing in her sleep. He kneeled down and picked her up in his arms and rocked her.  
  
"Stupid stupid girl." He said quietly.   
  
"You were so upset," she whispered. "I was afraid you'd leave me. I was afraid when you left, that you wouldn't come back."  
  
"My Molly." He said. "There is nothing in this whole damned world that would have not made me walk back in that door."  
  
Molly looked up at him, her wet eyes as unsure and terrified, as they were the night he married her. He smiled.  
  
"Arthur." she said softly after a while.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What do you think of the name Laura?" she asked.  
  
"For the baby?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I think," he said. "It's a wonderful name."  
  
"So do I." Molly smiled. 


	5. My Laura

My Laura  
  
Yes, it was definitely time. Molly lay on the bed, wondering if they had any Floo powder. She thought of having the child right here, in the comfort of her own bedroom. Arthur wouldn't have approved at all.   
  
"You need to have that child in a hospital." Arthur had said.  
  
"But, Arthur! The money! We could just have a nice midwife and--"  
  
"Molly, no!" he said, shaking his head. "I'll find a way to pay it off, believe me I will. But, you simply must have that child in a hospital."  
  
"All right." Molly sulked. "But, Arthur--"  
  
"Molly!" Arthur said, shoving a stale cookie in her mouth. "Shut up, Love."   
  
Molly grinned at the foolish memory as she stroked the cradle that Arthur had purchased and placed beside their bed. He had bought it in an antique story and then polished up. Molly thought it looked more beautiful then any stupid plastic store bought one could ever look. Molly thought of the beautiful little girl would sleep in the beautiful cradle. She touched the glass ballerina that stood on a small pedestal. Molly had found the tiny figurine in the Girl's Dormitory at Hogwarts and thought it was perfect. It played a beautiful little melody whenever she cried, and she was sure it was some sort of powerful spell that could sense emotions.  
  
Molly was hungry. Arthur had been doing his best, but they barely had enough to eat at times, having to sacrifice food to pay the rent and the doctor's appointments. They sold the chair that Arthur had kicked over in the living room (It's a landmark, you cannot sell it! Molly whined) and the functional cauldron heater in the kitchen (It wasn't all that functional anyway. Arthur shrugged) It was as if their pockets bore an impending hole where the money would just sift through and neither of them had any money to sew the hole back up. Molly opened the cabinet above the sink (the water was dirty and they had to get it from the well outside) and to her delight she found an orange.   
  
"Arthur must've left this for me." Molly said.   
  
She took a knife from the counter and started to peel it carefully. She cut it up into sections and put half of it on a plate, and the other half on another plate (for Arthur). Molly bit into the orange fruit thoughtfully and wandered over to their fireplace. Today was the exact day that she was due. She was supposed to be hospitalized a few days earlier, just in case the baby came early (Think of the bill! Molly said in distress). She supposed she should be getting over to St. Mungo's before she had the baby here and now. She was supposed to have gone this morning, but found it much nicer to lie on her big bed for a few hours. Now, it was late afternoon. If Arthur knew she was still here, he would've had a fit (Honestly Molly! she heard him say). Well, he probably did know that she wasn't at St. Mungo's because he had probably called St. Mungo's every five minutes to see if she had arrived yet.  
  
He would've called their house, just so he could yell at her for not being at the hospital and asking her if she wanted to have the baby right there, but Molly unplugged the phone the second he left the house. The detached cord buzzed every time a call came, and it hadn't stopped buzzing all day. Molly found it interesting that Arthur had time to phone her every two minutes and still get paid for doing his janitor duties. Indeed, she found it i amazing. /i  
  
She smiled and plugged the cord back into the phone and immediately it started to ring loudly. She watched it for a few seconds, hands clasped behind her back. She sighed and picked it up, holding it to her ear for a few seconds.   
  
"Yes, Arthur?"  
  
"Are you still at the house, Molly?" Arthur inquired.  
  
"No, dear." Molly said. "I'm in Egypt right now. I'm having tea with King Tut."  
  
"Molly!" Arthur sighed. "I've been trying to call all morning. Where've you been?"  
  
"Oh, just in the other room." Molly smiled.   
  
"Molly, I think it's time you get to St. Mungo's." he said. "Have you had something to eat?"  
  
"I had half of the orange you left in the cabinet."  
  
"Well, eat all of it."   
  
"But, what about you?"  
  
"I'm not the one that's pregnant, Love." Arthur laughed.   
  
"Can't we just get a midwife, Arthur?" Molly pleaded. "Hospitals are so stuffy."  
  
"Haven't we been over this, Molly?" Arthur sighed.   
  
"I don't recall." Molly said stubbornly.  
  
"Well, I do. Now, you get to the hospital and I'll meet you there."   
  
"But Arthur!"  
  
"But nothing, Molly Elaine Eloise Weasley!" He said. "Honestly, I hope that child of yours doesn't turn out as stubborn as you."  
  
"And I hope she doesn't get your big feet, lack of proper grooming and big ears." Molly retorted. "And freakishly tall status."  
  
"Right." Arthur said. "Now get to Saint Mungo's before I send someone out to get you."  
  
"Okay." Molly sighed. "You're so mean at times, Arthur."  
  
~-~-~-~-  
  
Molly took the long way. She took a muggle cab to the remote entrance of St. Mungo's. It was in a back alley, and one had to tap the bricks with their wand to reveal the entrance. Molly stared at the bricks, wondering which ones she had to tap and what would happen if she tapped the wrong ones on purpose. Arthur would be inside by now, looking through every birthing room for her. Molly loved to tease him. She sighed and started to tap at the three bricks.   
  
"Welcome to St. Mungo's Mrs. Weasley." the witch said. "You're husband's been very worried."  
  
"Has he?" Molly said, smiling.   
  
"He hasn't stopped pacing your empty room. He's bound to tread a ditch sooner or later." she commented leading Molly down the hallways.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Molly!" Arthur exclaimed shooting up out of the chair he was sitting in. "Do you've any idea how worried I've been? How many white hairs I've grown because of you? Where on Earth have you been? Merlin, Molly!"  
  
"Hello, Arthur." Molly said, smiling.  
  
He looked at her for a few seconds and then he broke a smile. "You've gone and got me all worried on purpose haven't you, My Molly?"  
  
"Oh, Arthur!" Molly sighed, taking a seat on the bed. "Whatever makes you believe that?"  
  
"Call it a hunch," he said, taking her hand.   
  
He stood there looking at her. This girl, Molly, had grown so much since the little weakling he had met four years ago. She seemed so much stronger, so much more confident. Indeed, she had in turn made him kinder and more generous. On their wedding day, they were both so nervous to get married. They were just teenagers, in a foolish love. They had not a penny to their name and not a friend to lend a hand. They knew that things would have been tough, and the future learned more and more uncertain every day.  
  
The future wasn't looking so bad now.  
  
"I'll see you later." Arthur said.   
  
"Promise?" Molly said. "You're not going to run off somewhere and leave me here?"  
  
"Promise." Arthur smiled as he left the room.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
There was only one reason that Arthur wasn't in the birthing room with Molly. She had wished him not to. She argued that he had gotten his way with making her have the baby in the hospital and she would have to have her way in not allowing him to watch her give birth. He didn't know why it was such a bad thing, but he respected her wishes because Molly was awfully persistent in the matter.   
  
"Hey!"   
  
Arthur turned his head to see Seth, looking slightly more mature. Wow, Arthur definitely wasn't expecting that.  
  
"Seth." Arthur said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Ah, well, my friend, I thought about what you said." Seth said. "And now that I've graduated Hogwart's, I thought it time to be more mature."  
  
"How did you know I was here?"  
  
"Choked it out of Lily Evans. She's a real drama queen when you torture her animals." Seth smiled. "So, you really married her."  
  
"Yupp."  
  
"And not because she was pregnant." Seth said in amazement. "Arthur, you've got to be the stupidest bloke I've ever known."  
  
"Foolish." Arthur nodded. "But not stupid."  
  
"Right." Seth nodded. "Listen, Arthur, if your kids need a godfather, or if you need a few Knuts to get by, you come to me, okay?"   
  
"Seth." Arthur said, looking at his friend. "That's a big offer. Molly and I are in debt higher then we can count."  
  
Seth chuckled. "What are friends for?"   
  
~-~-~-  
  
Seth had left. Arthur now sat alone in the empty waiting room, palms pressed against his eyes, scared to death. The bill would be plenty to worry about if he didn't have two lives hanging in the balance. Molly was fragile and tiny. She was so strong inside, but her body was just so weak. Arthur could only hope that she would pull through. He wanted the child to come out right, too. The little girl would be the pride and joy of his life. She would be a great athlete, he knew. She wouldn't get the highest marks, he knew. But, she would definitely be a beauty. She would have red hair, no doubt. She would have deep blue eyes, like her mother, but pride and strength, like her father.  
  
"My Laura." he muttered to himself.  
  
He leaned back and let his headrest on the back of the chair. He stared at the bright light above him and closed his eyes. He felt himself drift into unconsciousness, dreaming a restless, dreamless sleep.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Mister Weasley?" Someone was shaking his shoulder. "Mister Weasley, wake up."  
  
"W-what?" Arthur sat up slowly, his eyes opening with great difficulty. "Who're you?"  
  
"I'm your wife's Healer," he said quietly. "There was a problem, Mister Weasley."  
  
"Problem with what?" Arthur asked, not completely awake yet.  
  
"With the delivery." he said.   
  
This woke Arthur up.  
  
"Your wife is so petite, her hips were too slim. She wasn't given enough food. She had a poor diet. The baby didn't get enough nutrition. Surprisingly, when it came into this world, it was alive and well. It was too small to live. It cried once and we took it away. We did all we could, but the child just didn't breath after it's first cry." The doctor said quietly.  
  
"What are you saying?" Arthur said.  
  
"Your child is dead." he said.   
  
Arthur was quiet. "And Molly?"  
  
"Your wife is very sick, Mister Weasley. It doesn't look like she'll live to see morning." the Healer said. "If you'd like to go in and sit with her..."  
  
"Surely there's something you can do!" Arthur protested, standing up. "I'll pay whatever I have to, there's got to be something you can do!"  
  
"Your child is dead and your wife is dying." he shook his head. "That's the way it is, Mister Weasley."  
  
~-~-~-~-  
  
He opened the door slowly, not wanting to really at all. Molly lay there, on her side. Her face was even paler then it used to be. He walked slowly over and sat down. How could be, that just a few hours ago, this girl was giggling and carrying on? She opened her eyes and sat up, sighing.   
  
"I'm tired." she whispered weakly.  
  
"I know." Arthur said, taking her hand.   
  
"How is Laura?" she said eagerly. "I didn't get to see her, but I know she is the most beautiful baby in that nursery, Arthur."  
  
"Molly."  
  
"Did they let you see her yet?" Molly asked him.   
  
"No."  
  
"You know, it's funny." she said quietly. "I feel so sick and so happy at the same time."  
  
"Happy?" Arthur blinked.  
  
"Of course I'm happy." she sighed. "We've a daughter, Arthur."   
  
"Molly," Arthur said. "There's something you have to know about Laura."  
  
Molly sighed. "What is it?"  
  
Men don't cry, he told himself feebly. It didn't help him though. He didn't care how much of a man he was at the moment, he started to cry. He felt the hot tears run down his face like a horrible, burning fire. He looked at Molly's pale face. What had he done to deserve this pain? What had she done?   
  
"The doctor said," Arthur said, his voice soft. "that Laura died right after she let out her first cry."  
  
"W-what?" Molly whispered feebly. "That can't be. No. You're lying to me Arthur!"  
  
Arthur had just looked away, ashamed. What right did he have to live anyway? What right did Arthur Weasley, a stupid janitor, have to live when his child had just died because he failed to provide his wife with proper nutrition? From the depths of his heart, he wanted to bring the tiny baby back to live, even if it was just for a few hours. Just so Molly could hold her child in her thin arms. But, he wasn't God. He was Arthur. He held Molly's tired body against him as she sobbed.   
  
"I want to die." she sobbed. "I'm tired of life, Arthur."  
  
"No." Arthur shook his head. "Never say that, Molly. Don't you ever say that."  
  
"What did we do to deserve this, Arthur? What did Laura do?"  
  
"No one does anything to deserve this." He said. "It just happens."  
  
"Why?" Molly sobbed. "Why? Why?"  
  
"Rest now." Arthur said quietly, laying her down.   
  
"I never want to wake up." Molly cried, throwing her arms around Arthur's neck. "I want to die. I've nothing to live for."  
  
"Quiet now." Arthur said.   
  
"Arthur." Molly said drowsily. "The bill."  
  
"Don't worry about the bill. I'll take care of the bill." Arthur sighed.  
  
Molly didn't respond, but turned over, half asleep and sobbing. Arthur didn't bother to reach for her shaking hand, but merely sat still, looking at her sleeping form. He didn't know what he would do if he lost Molly. He reckoned he would probably jump off of a bridge. He would probably lose sight of reality. One thing was for sure, if Molly ever died, either now or ever, he would never marry again. Ever. There was no one else in this world for him and there never would be.  
  
Arthur felt himself drift into another restless spell of sleep. He wanted to sleep so badly, yet, he knew if he did fall asleep, when he woke up, Molly might not be alive when he woke up. He stared out the window, just beyond Molly's bed. He stared out at the brilliant stars and the bright moon. And just when he saw a faint pink invade the sky, he felt his eyelids drop over his eyes and the world blur into itself.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Arthur."  
  
Someone was shaking him.  
  
"Arthur, wake up."  
  
Arthur lifted his eyelids to find Molly's bed empty and the sheets folded neatly on the pillow. He looked frantically around and saw her right next to him, looking very tired, but nonetheless alive. She smiled at him weakly and handed him a slip of paper.   
  
"The left the bill on your forehead." she said.   
  
Arthur took the paper and looked at it. "One hundred Galleons and two Sickles. The Witch at the front told me One hundred Galleons!"  
  
"They charged you for sleeping in the chair." Molly answered, a hint of amusement in her voice.   
  
Arthur reached in Molly's purse and found the sack of money just as full as when he slipped it in there. Molly looked at him curiously. He spilled the coins out on the bed and counted them carefully. There wasn't enough. He counted them again, desperately this time.   
  
"Have I made a mistake?" he asked her. "There are fifty two Galleons and three Knuts."  
  
"What are we going to do?" she asked quietly.  
  
"I don't know." Arthur responded, racking his head for answers.  
  
He couldn't go to his parents. That would just be downright pathetic and embarrassing. Molly didn't have any parents. The doctors wouldn't have much sympathy for him and throw him and his wife in Azkaban. They had nothing left to sell except their house, their bed and the -- he felt a lump in his throat -- baby crib that was supposed to be Laura's. He looked up at her and she looked away from him, unwilling to get into another fight about money.  
  
"Don't look at me like that, Arthur." she said. "I haven't any money."  
  
"I know." Arthur sighed.  
  
"Isn't it sad we don't have any rich friends that would take pity on us?" Molly contemplated.  
  
"Yes, it's too bad we don't have any rich friends like ... " His eyes brightened up. "Seth!"  
  
"Seth?"  
  
Arthur ran out of the room to the owlery of St. Mungo's. The man told him it would cost him five Knuts to rent an owl. Arthur unwillingly tossed the man a Galleon and received his change, his pouch heavy with the added coins and the guilt of having spent five Knuts to rent a bloody owl. He scrawled a note to Seth, who was hopefully not far away. He picked an owl that looked like it had a lot of energy and would get to Seth fast. He had to be out of the hospital by noon, and it was nine.   
  
"That one's a real slacker." said the man who ran the owlery just as Arthur released the bird. "He flies real slow and drunken like. It's amusing the first few times, but it gets old real soon."  
  
"He looked healthy." Arthur argued.  
  
"Sir, are you mentally ill?" the man asked. "Everyone knows that a jittery owl will fly much slower then a calm one."  
  
"I knew that." Arthur said, turning away.  
  
Just as the man thought he was out of earshot, Arthur heard the man mutter "Sure you did, pal." Arthur shook his head and went back to Molly's room. She was sitting on the bed, next to the folded sheets, playing with the hem of her already ripped skirt. When he entered, she looked up at him expectantly. He smiled weakly and sat back down in the chair and shook his head.  
  
"Did you make a rich friend?" Molly asked.  
  
"I sent Seth an owl. I don't know if he'll help us though." said Arthur, shrugging. "He told me he would, but fifty Galleons is a lot for a guy just graduating Hogwart's."  
  
"Seth doesn't seem like the type to let people down often."  
  
"He's not." Arthur said. "Did Seth bully you when I left school?"  
  
"No, of course not." Molly shook her head. "He was actually nice to me. He always asked me how you were doing."  
  
"Seth's a good friend."  
  
Both of them were silent for a few minutes. Molly rubbed her tired eyes and then looked at Arthur's hands, which were placed placidly in his lap. She wondered if she would have any more children. What a wonder it would be to have a child! There was a dull aching hurt inside of her. She knew that it would never go away, it would always remain. Eventually, through the years, the pain would dull, but it would always be there. From her pocket, she took a pink ribbon and laid it across her lap. It had the name Laura Weasley scrawled on it in black ink.  
  
"What's that?" Arthur asked in a hoarse voice.  
  
"They tie a pink or blue ribbon a baby's wrist according to it's gender right after it's born and then they write the name of the child on it to make sure the baby isn't switched with any others." said Molly quietly. "The Healer gave me Laura's."  
  
"What are we going to do, Molly?" Arthur asked quietly.   
  
"I suppose," Molly said. "that we'll take it one day a time."  
  
"Do think that we'll have any more children?" Arthur asked.  
  
"Oh, I hope." Molly said. "I want to have a house full of children one day. I want to have six girls and one boy."  
  
"Six girls?" Arthur exclaimed. "I don't know how I'll survive in that house."  
  
"You'll have the one boy."   
  
"I'd rather have six boys and one girl." Arthur said haughtily.  
  
"That'd be horrible for the one little girl." said Molly sadly.   
  
Arthur opened his mouth to say something when an owl flew through the window and dropped a pouch on his lap with a note attached to it. The owl flew away and Arthur opened the pouch immediately. Sixty-eight Galleons lay in the pouch. Molly looked on in wonder as to where Arthur had received this money.  
  
"Dear Arthur and Molly," read Molly. "I'm sorry about Laura. I guess I'll have to wait a little longer to be a godfather. Here's the money you needed and some extra. Buy yourself something nice."  
  
"He's a nut." Arthur half laughed.  
  
"Yes, but he's an awfully nice nut." said Molly.  
  
Arthur and Molly paid their bill and left St. Mungo's with a few coins jiggling in Arthur's pocket. They were headed towards the cemetery in Hogsmeade. St. Mungo's had taken the liberty of burying the child and marking her grave. As Arthur and Molly walked through the crowds of Hogwart's students at Hogsmeade, they couldn't help but feel robbed of their youth. Molly ran her hands through her red hair and followed Arthur towards the cemetery.  
  
The cemetery was never overgrown. The grass was always neatly cut and green, even in the winter. But, no matter how green the grass was, there was something that felt lonely and dead about the plot of land. Molly followed Arthur, not really wanting to be here. Wishing that it had never happened. Wishing with all of her heart that Laura were alive. She looked at her worn boots and her patched skirt that swished around her boots. She saw Arthur stop in front of her and stopped as well.   
  
"Laura Weasley." Arthur said. "August 1971."  
  
"I have a feeling," Molly said quietly. "that I will hate August for the rest of my life."   
  
Arthur took his small wife's hand and marveled at her ability to fight her tears. She was so brave and courageous, like a true Gryffindor. He tried to recall the day she had been sorted. He had been in his Second Year. She was the thin little misfit that he paid no mind to. He couldn't say that he fell in love with her the moment he saw her.   
  
"Life is such a fragile thing." said Molly. "Some days I think I'd rather not live. Some days, I want to live forever. But now, when I know that a little child hasn't even had the chance to look and see the world as I have when she deserved to more then any of us, I feel like I don't have the right to live. What right do we have to be living, Arthur? What right do we have when there are babies like ours that didn't live to see the sunrise over the horizon? It's not fair! It's just not fair! Does the world want us to suffer? Does the world see us as such an unworthy couple that they had to take away Laura?"   
  
Arthur was silent as he stared at Molly, who was fingering the pink ribbon of her child. She looked up at him questioningly. She's right, thought Arthur. She's right about everything.   
  
"One day, My Molly." said Arthur. "I think there will be a world where our children will live and they will not have to go through what we did."  
  
"One day." Molly said decidedly. "I want my children to grow up in that world. All six girls and my one boy."  
  
"Or six boys and one girl." Arthur said.  
  
And as Molly and Arthur Weasley stood there, on the threshold of a new dawn, there was something different about them. Although neither of them was even twenty, they felt much older. The world seemed real as a place of horrors and death, but it also was revealed to have something else in it. Something that people could only uncover because of horror and death. Hope for tomorrow. Because, no matter how dark the times were to become or how much pain was suffered, it would not stop the sun from rising.  
  
Yes, the sun would always rise the next day. 


	6. Ashes

Ashes  
  
There was no doubt about it. Bill Weasley was the most beautiful child in the entire universe. He had red hair like his mother and his father and had a spray of freckles over his nose and had beautiful, bright blue eyes like his mother. Molly often argued that he had inherited Arthur's hands and nose, but Arthur said that everyone's hands and ears looked generally the same and there was no need to categorize them by parents. Bill had been born a healthy baby, although he was two months early. Although Bill's parents wanted to spoil him with all of their hearts, they simply didn't have the money to spoil a child.  
  
Bill only grew more beautiful with time. He often found his own forms of entertainment around the small hut in which they lived. Molly had suggested she get a babysitter for Bill and go out and look for a job, but Arthur had simply said, "I'm not going to let a stranger raise my child." Molly had pouted for a day or two, but had come to the conclusion that she, too, would rather raise her child then go to work for a rich wizard. Although Bill was very calm while he was sleeping, he was very hyperactive when awake. He broke things quite often and Arthur wanted to punish him (give him a time out, or a good spanking). But, Molly would not allow it. Even though she generally agreed with her husband, she put her foot down. She would never let her children get hit or spanked. She found it horrible and inhuman.  
  
"You can't! He's your son. Do you honestly want to hit your son?" asked Molly in a pleading voice.  
  
"Do you want him to get spoiled?"   
  
"We needn't worry about spoiling Billy." Molly said defensively. "Because we haven't the money in which to spoil him."  
  
"Well, Molly Dearest." Arthur said coldly. "I don't see you pulling in money for this family."  
  
"If you'd stop spending it on alcohol maybe we would."  
  
"So, I'm not allowed to have a drink just because you don't have a job?" Arthur asked.  
  
"It's a bad influence on Billy." she said. "How would you've liked to grown up with a drunk father?"  
  
Arthur had glared at her and then stormed out of the house. Molly had cried afterwards as she did the few dishes they had. She took her son in her arms and nestled her face in his soft red hair. She hoped that he wasn't picking any of these things up. She closed her eyes and held her son closer. Times were dark, very dark and it was all she could do to keep from giving up. She would do anything to protect her little boy from anything.   
  
It was all over the newspapers. There was a man named Voldemort. He killed people if they didn't join him on the dark side. He knew of every wizard family on the earth and terrorized muggles also. Molly was scared out of her mind to leave the house or leave Bill alone anywhere at anytime. She didn't want to die. Of course, living didn't seem much better, but she wanted to live for Bill. She wanted to protect him from the horrors of Voldemort.   
  
Arthur was stressed. His wages had been lowered tremendously because of all of the new Aurors that were needed to fight off Voldemort. One night, Arthur had commented cruelly that they didn't need Aurors because Voldemort would just kill them off anyway. Molly had cried and Arthur had gone out. A wife and small child weren't easy to support on a Janitor's wages, especially lowered ones. But, they got by. Gringott's would protect what money they had. Molly didn't eat much, but gave most of her food to Bill. He was a growing boy, after all.  
  
"Mummy." Bill said, clinging to her neck. "Why can't I go to the park like the muggle children? They look like they have fun."  
  
"We're safe here." Molly responded. "And I think that you can have a lot of fun right in this house, Billy."  
  
"Why was daddy mad?" Bill asked. "Why did he run away?"  
  
"Shh." Molly said "Daddy's just very sad."  
  
Molly so wanted to tell her son of Voldemort and give him correct explanations as to why he could not go to the muggle park with the muggle children and play in the woods and go out to get water from the well. She wanted to tell him that his father was very stressed because of money and fire whiskey. Of course Molly supported his right to drink! But did he have to do it so compulsively? She would've felt so much better if Arthur came home after work to share a meal with his family and just be there in case Voldemort came. She shivered at the thought of dying at his hands.  
  
Bill's bed was the small couch that Arthur had managed to buy at a second hand furniture shop. Molly had tried to sew it up and make it as presentable as possible. Children's beds were expensive and they just couldn't afford it. Molly, however, had insisted on a nice blanket and pillow for Bill. Arthur had argued that Bill didn't need a pillow, but Molly had put her foot down and said that she would not have her child sleeping without a pillow. Arthur had sighed and humbled himself to let Bill choose a fairly expensive blanket and pillow for his bed.   
  
Bill was half asleep at noon when Molly had finished crying. She carefully lay him down on his bed and covered him with his blanket. She smiled at the child. Just as she was about to take a nap herself, the window burst open and a barn owl flew in and dropped a letter on the dinner table. Molly looked worriedly over at her sleeping son, afraid the noise might have awakened him. He turned over in his sleep, but did not open his eyes. Molly sighed quietly. "Bloody owls. Why couldn't it be pocket mice or rats delivering letters? No, it had to be the bloody owls. It had to be the bloody owls."  
  
Molly looked at the envelope sitting on the table. It was addressed to her and had the stamp of St. Mungo's. Molly had gone for a check up with her Healer (You don't look well. Arthur had said) a few weeks ago. He said he'd send her the results. When he didn't send them for a few days, Molly figured that he'd forgotten. Now, Molly only worried that Arthur hadn't paid the bill in full and they were being charged extra money. It was extra money that they didn't have, of course. Molly opened the envelope, and read it quietly to herself.  
  
"Dear Mrs. Weasley." She read. "I've examined the results of the tests we ran a few weeks ago. The results show that you are pregnant with a boy. Sincerely, Healer Lonx."  
  
What would Arthur think? They could barely afford to feed and clothe Bill, how much more another baby? Seth had disappeared after Laura's birth and Arthur didn't want to get a hold of him to ask for money. Arthur insisted that he didn't need his best friend to support his family. But, what choice did Molly have now? She was going to bring another life into this world. This was a world of horrors and terrors and death. This world that hope was so rare to find.   
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
Molly's entire body froze up. She walked over to Bill's bed and took the cotton blanket and draped it over his face so he looked like a pile of laundry. If Voldemort had come for her, then so be it, but she would never let them have Bill. The knock came again, more persistent this time. Arthur never knocked, after all, it was his house and he had a key. Molly felt the tears of fear well up in her throat. If she didn't answer the door, he would come in and kill Bill. She had to be brave for Bill. She walked slowly across her living room, which suddenly seemed even smaller to walk across.   
  
She felt the cool metal beneath her fingers as she grasped the doorknob. She swallowed the hard lump that had been forming in her throat. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open.   
  
"Molly!" Seth exclaimed, taking her into his arms and spinning her around.  
  
"Seth, what on earth are you doing here?" Molly asked him.   
  
"I was worried about you. I haven't heard from you or Arthur years. I was afraid that Voldemort had gotten hold of you." Seth half yelled.  
  
"Shush." Molly hissed. "You'll wake Billy."  
  
"Billy? You've a cat?" Seth said.  
  
"Arthur hates cats." said Molly. "We've a child, Seth. Oh, you must come see, he's the most beautiful child on this planet. Come on."  
  
She led Seth into the living room where Bill napped peacefully. Seth looked on in tender shock. Molly and Arthur certainly were young, but they weren't stupid. And this child confirmed that. It was suddenly apparent to Seth that Arthur did know what he was doing when he married Molly. Seth suddenly felt so jealous of Arthur, having a wonderful family and a wonderful wife at his age.  
  
"He looks like you." said Seth, smiling.   
  
"Oh, Seth." Molly was sobbing. "I can't do this anymore."  
  
"Can't do what?" Seth said in surprise. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
"I got a note from my Healer telling me I was pregnant again."  
  
"That's wonderful!" Seth exclaimed, clapping his hand on Molly's bony shoulder.  
  
"Oh, yes! I want another child so very bad, but Arthur doesn't. Arthur's been so stressed with the lowered wages and all of the murders and expenses that he's resorted to drinking. He won't listen to me and whenever I try to reason with him, he just points out that I don't have a job." Molly sobbed.  
  
"Drinking?" Seth exclaimed.   
  
"It's horrid." Molly said, taking the drowsy Bill that had woken up because of the noise in her arms.   
  
"Mummy, who is he?" Bill asked sleepily.  
  
"This is your godfather, Billy." Molly said quietly.   
  
"Well, not officially." Seth shrugged. "But I like it. Godfather Seth. It sounds like I'm some sort of hero or something."  
  
Molly smiled weakly.  
  
"Well, I've got to leave now." Seth said, handing Molly a pouch of coins. "If' you need anything, anything at all, you just owl me."  
  
"Yes, but Seth."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Where do you get your money?" Molly asked.  
  
"I'm a Spy for the Ministry. It's bloody dangerous, but pays even better." He said.  
  
"Be careful, Seth." Molly said sincerely. "Please."  
  
"I will." he said, kissing Molly's hand before Apparating away.  
  
Molly opened the pouch of coins long after he left. Inside, there was two hundred glittering galleons. Arthur would be drunk when he came home, but perhaps he would be pleased. Molly sighed quietly and held Billy in the light of the candle placed on the table. He sat with her, feeling very comfortable in his mother's arms. Molly thought of what would become of her Billy. If they survived these dark times somehow, he would go to Hogwart's. Hopefully, he would be sorted into Gryffindor. She didn't think it to terrible to be sorted into Hufflepuff and she knew for a solid fact that due to genetic traits, Bill would never make it into Ravenclaw. But, if he were to get sorted into Slytherin due to his pureblood parents, Molly would think it was terribly odd and feel sorry for him.  
  
Of course, Bill might not go to Hogwart's, she thought. If they could somehow escape to France, where there weren't as many murders at the hands of Voldemort and his Deatheaters then they could stay there and live their life. Bill could learn French and go to Beauxbatons, which was a fair school, although most who went there were filthy rich and the tuition, and school supplies were very pricey. She supposed Seth could help them out if that's what they decided. Ah, Seth. He was so very brave to risk his neck every single day of his life. Arthur and Molly had come to an agreement never to tell their children about Seth. What would they think if they knew that their own parents couldn't even support them? Of course the times were bad, but that still was no excuse.  
  
Molly heard the door open and then slam shut violently. She sighed and held Bill a little tighter.  
  
"Molly." Arthur said, walking into the kitchen. "Have we any food or have you gone and eaten it all?"  
  
"Billy's a growing boy." whispered Molly.  
  
"Why do you keep calling him Billy?" Arthur asked, a tinge of anger in his tired voice. "He's not a baby. He's almost four."  
  
"That's still a baby." said Molly defensively. "And maybe if you spent more time with him, then you would feel a little more love to your son. Maybe you wouldn't want to hit him so bad."  
  
"I don't want to hit him, I just want him to be disciplined." Arthur retorted, slamming a cabinet shut.  
  
"He's just a baby, Arthur." Molly said quietly. "He doesn't need to be hit."  
  
"He doesn't need to break things either." said Arthur angrily.  
  
"Mummy?" Bill said groggily. "Mummy, I'm hungry."  
  
"Yes, of course." Arthur said accusingly to Bill. "You're hungry and you've eaten already. I work my bloody ass off all day, get a few coins and come home to find my wife loafing on the coach."  
  
"Stop it Arthur." Molly said.   
  
"Why do you break things, Bill?" Arthur continued. "Don't you know it costs money to buy things? Why do you do it?"  
  
"Arthur!"   
  
"Mummy says I can't go to the park and have fun." Bill said. "I want to have fun."  
  
"So you think it's fun to break things that you didn't even buy?" Arthur shouted. "You know what I think, Bill? I think that you need a good spanking to set you straight. I think that your mother is spoiling you with what money we have. Do you want to grow up to be a lazy stupid person, Bill?"  
  
"Stop it!" Molly yelled, clutching Bill.  
  
Bill started to sob in his mother's chest, clinging to her tattered shirt. Molly turned away from her husband towards the candle.  
  
"I'm stupid." Bill wailed, his face turning red from sobbing.  
  
"No, you're not Billy." said Molly, stroking his face. "You're very smart."   
  
"Put him down." Arthur said calmly.  
  
Molly dried Bill's tears with the sleeve of her shirt and put him down on the floor. Bill sat on the floor, still crying and hiccupping. Arthur went over and scooped him up in his arms and sat down on the couch with him. "What're you doing?" Molly asked. Arthur didn't answer.  
  
"Hold out your hand, Bill." he said calmly.   
  
"Arthur, no!" Molly said.  
  
"It's for his own good and you know it." Arthur said.  
  
"Why Daddy?" Bill asked.  
  
"Don't you touch him!" Molly screamed, taking the child from Arthur.  
  
Molly took the very confused toddler into the next room and sat at the kitchen table with him. Arthur came in, looking infuriated with Molly. He started to yell at her for not wanting to discipline her son. Then, he started to yell at her for not making any money and she retorted that he wouldn't let her. Arthur told her to give Bill to him. Molly yelled at him to leave the child alone and to go find a grown man to beat because she'd rather die then see Bill hurt. Arthur told her that she might as well die because she was of no use anyway.  
  
Molly just stared at him.  
  
Arthur shook his angry head and was about to head out the door when Molly shouted after him in a tearful voice.  
  
"I'm pregnant!" She sobbed. "And you don't give a damn! You just don't care, Arthur!"  
  
She heard the door slam violently and it was once again silent in the small house. Bill sat on the floor of his parent's room, being put there when the fighting was too intense. Molly opened the door to find Bill looking quite tearful. She picked him up and laid him beside her on the big bed. He looked at his mother, very confused. It felt like it was his fault. He felt like a bad boy. He watched his mother cry in her sleep like a disturbed child and released himself with some difficulty from her embrace. Molly stirred slightly, but didn't wake.   
  
  
  
Little Bill walked through the quiet house and when he reached the door, he sat in front of it. He stared at the huge wooden mass. His father had called him stupid. He wasn't exactly sure what being stupid was, but he knew it was very bad. His daddy had yelled and his mommy had yelled back. His mommy had cried. Bill felt bad. When his father came home, he would hold out his hand like his father had asked. He did not care if his father hurt him. All Little Bill wanted with his innocent little heart was for his mother to stop crying in her restless sleep.  
  
After a long hour and a half, the door creaked open and Arthur Weasley opened and to his surprise, found his son sitting there, waiting for him.  
  
"Bill, what are you doing up?" He said. "It's late."  
  
"Daddy." Bill said, holding out his small hand and crying great globby tears. "Mommy is sad."  
  
"Why are you holding your hand out, Bill?" Arthur asked, kneeling in front of the small boy, and to his surprise, found that he was shaking.  
  
"You have to punish me." He whimpered, sobbing. "Make mummy stop crying."  
  
Arthur sighed deeply. "I'm not going to punish you."  
  
"Where did you go?" Bill asked.  
  
"You know what I think, Bill?" He asked his son, scooping him up and walking over to the couch in which Bill slept. "I think that your mum is a nut case."  
  
"Do you love mummy?"   
  
Arthur looked at his son blankly as if he had asked an unthinkable question.  
  
"Do you love mummy?" He repeated.  
  
"I'm not sure. I'm not really sure about anything anymore, Billy." Arthur shook his head. "I just need some time to myself for awhile. Tell your mother that I'll send money for food."  
  
"Daddy!" Bill said, reaching his short little arms up when his father laid him down.   
  
"Good night, Billy."  
  
"Good night, Daddy."   
  
Arthur Weasley wandered around to his bedroom and peeked in the door. Molly slept restlessly and Arthur could hear her sobbing in her sleep. He didn't know what he felt towards her now. It was a mix of anger and hate and ... love. It seemed impossible, but he still loved her. It seemed that he would always love her, no matter what happened, he would always love her. He just needed some time to love himself. He gave her a smile that she couldn't see and went to the front door.   
  
"Bye bye."   
  
Arthur turned around and saw Bill still awake, tears running down his chubby face and his tiny hand waving to him. Arthur fought the tears that ultimately escaped his eyes and with second thoughts filling his mind, walked out the front door. He left his pregnant wife and his tiny child alone in the dark.   
  
~-~-~-  
  
Molly sat in her best set of clothes at their dining table. Where had she gone wrong? What had she done to deserve Arthur's hatred? She cried silently as she watched Bill sleep on the couch. She didn't understand why Arthur wanted to hit poor Billy. She didn't understand why all of this had to happen to her. She didn't understand what Laura did to the rest of the world for her to die. She didn't understand. She didn't want to understand because, she had a funny feeling that understanding would be to accept the truth. To accept the truth that she was a failure that Arthur just didn't love. That she was just another girlfriend. She sobbed harder.  
  
Molly felt a tug at her skirt and looked down to see her little Billy, who looked groggy. "Mummy, I'm hungry." She smiled tenderly at him and reached into their cabinet and brought out an apple, which chopped very slowly in small bits. Bill crawled up into her lap and he ate them, while offering her some in the process. She smiled tenderly and embraced her little boy, not understanding how a child so beautiful could exist on this Earth. Molly sighed.  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
Molly felt every muscle in her body tense up. She squeezed Bill tight and he looked up at her questioningly.   
  
"Who is it Mummy?" He whispered.  
  
"Shush." Molly said quietly, putting her thin hand over his mouth.  
  
Molly knew it couldn't have been Seth. Seth was just here yesterday. Molly was insanely terrified. Her entire body was shaking with fear and she slowly stood up, still clutching her child, who seemed oddly heavy despite his malnutrition. She thought to ask who it was, but decided against it. If they didn't think anyone was in the house, they would just go away, it was that simple. At least, that's what she told herself.   
  
No. They would burn their house to the ground if they thought no one was in it just because they didn't like it. Molly made herself stop trembling and opened the window just above the kitchen sink. She climbed up onto the kitchen counter, still clutching her son, muffling his whimpers of fear in her shirt. She leaped silently from the window sill to the ground five feet below. She stumbled, but found herself unharmed as well as Bill. She felt her voice tremble as she told her son "Don't be afraid, Billy. It's all going to be all right."  
  
She ran into the forest. She suddenly felt the horrible feeling that she was being watched. Not only being watched, but also being followed and stalked. The most horrible part was the person that was following was walking slowly and not running because they knew she would soon be trapped. There was no escape. This was her end. She felt the fear of death. Not the death of her, Molly Weasley, but the death of Bill. To live with causing the death of a child that had not even yet begun to live. She wouldn't allow him to die! She would lay herself down before Voldemort could get his stupid hands on her perfect child.   
  
She collided with a human body.  
  
"Miss, are you alright?"   
  
Molly stared up at the tall man. She recognized him. He was the muggle that ran her landlord's garden. But, what on Earth was he doing in this part of the woods? He looked down at her with worry and shock that a tiny woman could have ran that fast and have collided with him that hard.  
  
Molly knew that Voldemort could sense Wizard Blood. He would only kill muggles if they were in his way. If she gave her son to this man, maybe, just maybe, he would escape and be alive. She knew she couldn't run any further, she was about to pass out from fatigue. She stood up shakily and, still trembling, she handed her crying son to the gardener. He looked at her in shock.  
  
"Take him." she said.   
  
"What? Why? Is something wrong?" asked the man.  
  
"Tell your employer to contact Arthur Weasley. That is Arthur Weasley's son. His name is Bill." Molly said quickly. "Now, run! Get as far away from these woods as you can. Go beyond David Love's house."  
  
"I don't understand --"  
  
"Just go!" She pleaded with all the voice she could muster.  
  
The man hesitated for a few seconds.  
  
"Please." Molly begged.  
  
"Alright." He nodded. "Bill will be safe with me."  
  
"Thank you so much." Molly said with deep gratitude.  
  
She only saw him turn his back to run when she turned around and started to run back towards her home. It was the probably the stupidest thing she had ever done in her entire life. Yet, she couldn't remember a time when she had ever been surer of anything at all. She felt herself short of breath to the point of collapsing, but kept going. The further she was from Bill, the better. The sooner she met her death, the safer her child would be.   
  
Someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the ground, pointing a wand to her head.  
  
"Weasley."   
  
"Narcissa?" Molly breathed.  
  
"Shut up." Narcissa scowled. "You're not good enough for the Dark Lord to waste his magic on. You may be a pureblood, but you're poor as dirt. I don't want to kill you quickly. I'd much rather leave your bloody corpse just breathing, but sure to die, for your husband to find."  
  
From the shadows stepped the hooded and cloaked figures of Deatheaters. Molly trembled in fear as she saw something else emerge from the horrible shadows. Four Dementors crawled out of the shadows. She felt the world around her slowly disappear as the Deatheaters, one of whom she recognized as a fellow Gryffindor, namely Peter Pettigrew, James' friend, beat her. She felt the happy thoughts of hope escape her mind and the world felt like nothing would ever be happy again. Before she passed out from the pain and exhaustion, she found what might have been her last comforting thought.   
  
Bill and Arthur were still alive.  
  
And that was all that really mattered.  
  
~-~-~-~-  
  
Arthur sat in the Leaky Cauldron, a mug of beer in front of him, not drunk. He stared at the bartender, who was an old woman. She rubbed a dirty rag on some even dirtier mugs. She gave him a small smile. Arthur didn't bother to smile back. Too many things were on his mind at the moment.   
  
He was thinking of Molly. Did she really mean that she was pregnant? Had she just said that to get his attention? He hoped for another boy and he knew that she probably wanted a girl. They had their boy, Bill, and this next child would determine whether they had six more girls or five more boys and a girl. He smiled. He liked the name Charlie. He was certain it would be a boy. But, if it happened to be a girl, then he supposed that he had always liked the name Virginia, Ginny for short. Although, Laura was a very beautiful name, he would never any more of his children that, not even as a middle name. It would hurt too much to look at that one child and he couldn't do that to his child. That is, unless, he named all of them Laura. Which, of course, Molly would have his head detached if he even so much as suggested something like that.  
  
"There was a murder." grumbled the Auror sitting next to Arthur.  
  
"Where?" another man asked.  
  
"Somewhere in the muggle area. It was a small hut that was attacked, it didn't seem large enough to suit even one person. Records showed that three people were living there." said the Auror.  
  
"Are they dead?"  
  
"Don't know." the Auror mumbled. "The whole thing burned to the ground. If there was anyone in that house, their body would probably so mangled and deformed that no one could even recognize it as a human body."   
  
In his heart, Arthur knew it was his home that was gone. He knew that it was probably his beloved Molly and Billy that lay within the ashes. He knew that every hope and dream and love he ever had was smoldering in the middle of nowhere, as if it hadn't even existed at all. But, in his heart, he just didn't want to believe it. He kept creating pity for the sorry wizards that died in that tragic accident. He kept telling himself that Molly and Bill would be loafing on the coach when he returned, asking him for food which he so willingly dished out for them.  
  
No longer interested in the Auror's conversation, Arthur turned his attention to listening to the indistinct chatter of everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. He heard the door in the back open and close in a sense of urgency. The person that had entered was apparently in a hurry and frantic state of worry. Arthur wondered what he wanted as he sipped at his drink.  
  
"Arthur Weasley!"   
  
Arthur turned around and saw David Love, his landlord and protector. Arthur slid off of his stool, after leaving a few Knuts to pay for his drink. David nodded towards him. "Follow me." he said. He took Arthur out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the Children's Toy Store in Diagon Alley. Arthur thought that David was playing some sort of a joke or implying that he didn't give his children enough toys to play with. He looked at David with questioning eyes. He suddenly felt a tug at his pant leg and looked down with some surprise to see his son, Bill.  
  
"My muggle worker was in the forest yesterday to collect some moss for me." David said. "And he said that a woman suddenly collided with him. He described her as having vibrant red hair and being petite with tattered clothes."  
  
"So Molly was wandering around in the forest carelessly." Arthur said calmly. "What's wrong with that?"  
  
"The gardener said that she ran off in the opposite direction." said David. "I don't know where your wife is and what condition she's in, but I suggest you take Bill and find out before it's too late."  
  
"Right." Arthur nodded, taking Bill's hand. "Thank you."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
He felt the realization hit him slowly. The realization that three years of hard work and sweat and blood now lay in smoldering ashes. It was the realization that his Molly now was part of the ashes along with his son who had not yet been born. The shock crept into his mind like a horrible, venomous snake and seemed to inject its venom slowly. He felt Bill tug at his shirt, and looking up at him with the wet blue eyes of his mother.  
  
"Daddy." Bill said. "I'm hungry. Where is mummy?"  
  
"In the ashes, Bill."   
  
Arthur picked up his son and just held him. He didn't know why he didn't cry. He didn't know why he only felt a feeling of great disbelief instead of sorrow that every hope and dream he had ever had now lay in the smoldering ashes. What would he do now? He'd have to put Bill in foster care or in an orphanage. He wouldn't be able to go on. He knew he missed Molly already. He knew that there was no one else in the world for him. He put his sobbing son down.  
  
"Wait here, Bill." he said.  
  
Arthur walked past the smoldering ashes and into the forest beyond. Maybe Molly was still alive. Maybe she was just sleeping on the forest floor, too tired and weak from malnutrition. Maybe she was just playing a very funny joke him and when he found her, she would pop out and yell "Boo!" Arthur treaded through the trees earnestly, looking for the head of red that he had run his hands through so many times.   
  
"Molly!"  
  
She was leaning against a tree, sobbing and shaking. Blood ran down her face and soaked her clothes. Her eyes were half open and she looked dazed. Arthur walked over to her and kneeled beside her. She didn't look over at him, but merely sat, still shivering and sobbing.  
  
"Molly." Arthur said. "What happened?"  
  
"You don't love me." Molly said softly in a trembling voice. "You don't love me. Go away."  
  
"Of course I love you." Arthur said quietly.   
  
"No." Molly sobbed, in barely a whisper. "You're a liar."  
  
"Molly, it's okay." Arthur said. "I'll get you to St. Mungo's and then you'll be just fine."  
  
"How do I know," Molly whispered. "that you won't toss me into the ashes to burn?"  
  
"I would never do that." Arthur said, picking her up.   
  
Molly leaned her bloody head against his chest as he carried her light body towards their smoldering house. Arthur was greatly disturbed as he walked with his dying wife in his arms. How could she possibly say that he, of all people, didn't love her? How could she think that he would throw her into the smoldering ashes to burn like he was a heartless Deatheater? He reached the ashes and saw Bill, sobbing hysterically, and laying on the ground.  
  
"Bill?" Arthur said, laying down his wife on the dead grass. "What's wrong? What've you done?"  
  
Bill didn't answer, but merely held his hands up for his father to examine. Blood ran down his hands and ashes clung to the raw wounds. Flesh was peeled of and hung in strands on his tiny hands. Arthur wanted to take hold of Bill's hands and heal them, but it only then occurred to him that he had neither the wand nor the knowledge to. Instead, he picked up his unconscious wife and told his tiny, bleeding child to follow him down the road two miles to a portkey.  
  
~-~-~-~-  
  
Once again, Arthur sat in a waiting room of St. Mungo's. Only this time, it was the Waiting Room for patients that needed serious attention. The Healer had informed Arthur that Dementors had visited his wife while being beaten mercilessly by Deatheaters. Arthur had only nodded when the Healer told him that there was a seventy-five percent chance that the child she was carrying would be a stillbirth. Arthur had asked about getting an abortion for her, but the Healer said that with her current condition, it would be to risky and that they would just have to wait until the child was actually born.  
  
The Healer had put Bill and Molly in the same room. Molly had not completely healed and it was recommended that she have more time in the hospital, but the injuries caused by Voldemort would growing more and more very day and they were only permitted to stay the time that was absolutely necessary. Molly was still shaken from the Dementors, but was no longer throwing paranoid accusations at her husband. As for Bill, the Healer had failed to realize what he had done with his hands. All he knew is that Bill's hands were going to have scars for the rest of his life that would bleed when he came in contact with something that reminded him of that day. They were cursed scars that would never go away.  
  
Arthur paid the Bill with what coins he had left. He walked over to Bill and Molly, who were sitting in the lobby. The Healer had given Bill a pair of dragon hide gloves as an act of kindness. Arthur looked down at the two, not really knowing what to say.   
  
"What happened to your hands, Bill?" Arthur asked quietly.  
  
"You said that mummy was in the ashes." said Bill, starting to cry. "I wanted to find mummy."  
  
"Oh, Billy." Molly said, holding her child tight and kissing the top of his head.   
  
"I hate you." Bill said quietly. "I hate you Daddy."  
  
Arthur stepped back in shock.   
  
"No, no, Billy." Molly said. "Don't say that."  
  
"I hate you!" Bill screamed, sobbing.  
  
Arthur said nothing, and only turned away from his child whose face was now buried into his mother's shirt. Molly walked over to her husband and put her hand on his shoulder. He put his own calloused hand on hers and they just stood there, neither knowing what to say; neither wanting to say anything.  
  
"He doesn't mean it." Molly said.   
  
"I'm a horrible father." Arthur said angrily, turning to her. "I'm a horrible excuse for a person! Where was I when Voldemort attacked our home? I was out getting bloody drunk! God!"  
  
"Everyone makes mistakes." she said, looking up at him. "Arthur, no one expects you to be perfect."  
  
"Bill does." Arthur said. "And now I've gone and let him down. It's my fault that Bill will never have normal hands."  
  
"I want to go home." Bill sobbed. "Mummy, I want to go home."  
  
Molly put her hand on the back of Bill's head and rocked him gently. Where would home be from now on? thought Arthur. All that was left of the home that they had once known were ashes and bad memories. They couldn't possibly go and trouble Seth, for Seth lived on the roads, always spying on Voldemort. They had no one else to trouble except Arthur's parents, which he simply would not allow himself to sink so low as to ask for assistance from his parents.  
  
"There's a place I've heard about," Molly said. "That houses and feeds victims of Voldemort's wrath."  
  
"I don't want pity from anyone." Arthur spat, glaring at her.  
  
"I don't care about being pitiful." Molly said. "I just want Bill to have a warm place to sleep tonight."  
  
Arthur was silent as he lead his family out of the hospital and into to the busy streets of Diagon Alley. He put his arm around Molly and sighed a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his feet and circulated from every vein his body. He looked at his tiny wife and his even smaller child, who would always have scars because of him. Bill might never forgive me, thought Arthur. He might grow up to hate me. I don't know if I could take that. I love him more then anything and want to be the best father I can be, but today, I've proven myself not worthy of his love. I only hope that one day he can find it in his heart to forgive me. There's so much I want to give him but can't. Bill will grow to be a strong boy that his brothers and sister can look up to. And one day, if he never forgives me, I know he will commit a wrong against his children and feel as rotten as I do now and will forgive me. That is all I can hope for now.  
  
"I hoped," Molly sobbed. "that Bill would grow up in a world free of this horror. The day that no person will die at the hands of a merciless murderer seems so far away. Tomorrow seems even further away. Sometimes, I think that I'm not strong enough to reach tomorrow. But then, I think that if I was not there for Billy tomorrow, then he might not have a tomorrow either. And the child I'm carrying will grow up in a world as lost and chaotic as it is now and the children to come will know no peace. I can't bear it if that were to happen."  
  
"Neither could I." Arthur said quietly.   
  
"Where do we go now?" Molly asked. "Where do we go now that everything we ever had is gone? Where do we turn?"  
  
"I think that this what vagabonds must feel like." Arthur said. "They don't know exactly where they are going, or why. They don't know where their next meal will come from or their next sign of comfort or compassion. But, they keep going. And that, My Molly, is that we must do."  
  
"Wander around like fools?" Molly said, a hint of laughter in her voice.   
  
"Wander around like fools until we find other fools that are willing to help fools like us." Arthur smiled.  
  
Bill slept against his mother's chest and Molly and Arthur started the long walk to the train station. Where they would get the money for their train ticket or where their train ticket would take them, they did not know for sure. All they really knew is that was some hope in this world and it was just itching for them to find it. And they would find it because it was part of their destiny and not even God himself could change that. So, penniless and tired with only the clothes on their back, three Weasley's walked towards the sunset, feeling so much older then they really were mean to, but still somehow feeling immature and youthful.  
  
"I never understood Janitors." said Molly thoughtfully. "You clean up the mess people make, and you make a few sickles, and that's good for you, but then what? There's no room for thought or dreaming!"  
  
"Well, Molly dearest, I do believe that many of my dreams came true because of the mop I carried." Arthur smiled.  
  
"You've not imagination, Arthur. None at all." Molly pouted. She was quiet for a few minutes before speaking again. "You know what I heard once?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"That a phoenix is reborn from the ashes. But, without dying, it cannot be reborn as something more beautiful." Molly said. "Do you think that we'll ever be able to see a phoenix?"  
  
"Maybe." Arthur shrugged.  
  
"Maybe." Molly repeated.  
  
Maybe ... 


	7. Fairytales

Fairytales   
  
Charlie was the first child born into The Burrow. His parents had lived in a Shelter for victims for the months that his mother was pregnant with him. His father had been given a small raise at the Ministry and they were able to make a loan from Gringott's and were able to afford the house in the middle of a vast open field on a rich man's land that they called The Burrow. Charlie had always been fascinated with things. He was never satisfied with simple explanations about why certain things happened the way they did, he always had to ask: Why?  
  
Bill was not a very good playmate for Charlie. As Bill seemed to favor his mother, Charlie favored his dad, for his dad was so much more fun then his mother, who spent all her time cleaning or attempting to cook. Bill steered clear of Charlie because, in his mind, going near Charlie meant going near his father. Whenever Charlie asked his mother why Bill didn't like him very much, she would wrap him in a hug and say to him in her singsong voice "Bill loves you very much. He's just shy."  
  
Of course, Charlie loved his mother as well. He especially loved her when she would put him to bed precisely at eight-thirty. Bill was allowed to stay up until nine if he was quiet. Molly would stroke her son's red hair as he looked up at her with his blue eyes. Then, she would tell him wonderful stories of lands far away. She would tell him of lands where people could ride dragons into the sunset without being afraid of You-Know-Who. She told him of a place where he was allowed to run and play freely and not be afraid of being taken away. Charlie's favorite parts were the dragons.  
  
"Would Bill ride the dragons with me?" he asked her. "Would he stop being shy?"  
  
"Yes." Molly smiled. "Bill would ride the dragons with you."  
  
"I'd like that." Charlie smiled.   
  
"So would I, Charlie." said Molly.   
  
Usually when Molly was finished putting Charlie to sleep, Bill was already in his bed, waiting for her. She would go into his room and sit down on his bed and he would let himself be hugged. Sometimes, Bill would tell her about things that were on his mind, but most of the time he was silent with the growing hate for his father. Molly knew this and it bothered her greatly.  
  
"Billy." said Molly quietly. "I wish you wouldn't hate your dad."  
  
"I hate him." Bill said bitterly. "I'll always hate him."  
  
"Please don't say that." Molly said, holding him close to her. "Everyone makes mistakes, Billy. You have to understand that."   
  
"He left you and me to die." Bill said quietly. "I hate him."  
  
By the time that Molly had put Bill to bed, she was tired. She sighed and started to make a thin soup for Arthur when he came home. The day after their old home burned down was the day that Arthur stopped drinking and trying to punish his children. He declared he would never touch alcohol again in his life and he would never lay a hand on his children; expect to pat them on the back or to give them a comforting hug. Molly appreciated this and felt the love for her dedicated husband grow steadily stronger and stronger every day.  
  
He would come home about ten every night. She would be sitting at the dinner table, sipping a cup of hot water as his soup warmed up. Since the kitchen was in a corner of the house, she never heard him come in the door. She only knew he was home by the sound of the shower upstairs running. Molly laid her tired head on the table as she waited for her husband. She thought that it would be wise to use this time to think about things. Only, she felt so dumb and stupid from not finishing school that she wasn't quite sure she had the right to think.  
  
Charlie was very charming. His hair was always wild, no matter how many times it was washed or combed. Molly knew she was very fortunate to have him born healthy, especially since there was a seventy-five percent chance he would have been a stillbirth. Bill may have been the most handsome little boy that she had ever seen, but Charlie was definitely the most charming. He had an endearing smile that Molly had been in love with since the minute he had begun to grow teeth. He was very innocent and naive, sometimes she wished she could steal some of his youth and give it back to Bill, who had been robbed of his.  
  
Bill had once been a smiling, happy child. Now, he was solemn and quiet and reserved. Bill seemed to cling to Molly. Molly had no problem with it, if only he didn't hate his father so! Bill acted so much older then he actually was, and it was all Molly could do to stop from crying for her poor Billy.   
  
"Hello." Arthur said, walking into the room, his long hair wet and not brushed.  
  
"Hello." Molly said, hurriedly getting up.  
  
She took the pot off of the stove and put it onto the table and began to ladle some of the thin soup into Arthur's bowl. He ran his hand through his tangled hair and looked up to her. She wasn't getting thinner anymore. Her eyes were usually dancing when he came home, but tonight, they seemed troubled and the tranquil blue that usually filled them was replaced with a lonely tone. He picked up the spoon and sampled some of the food put before him.  
  
"Are the boys in bed?" He asked.  
  
"I put Bill to sleep an hour ago." Molly responded quietly.   
  
"Molly." Arthur said. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong." she said quietly.  
  
"Of course there is. Tell me." Arthur said reaching across the table for her hand.  
  
"Tell you what?" Molly demanded, on the verge of tears. She stood up, tearing her hand away. "Tell you that every night Bill tell me how much he hates you? Tell you that no matter what I do, he's been robbed of his youth? Tell you that and make you feel like scum, Arthur?"  
  
Arthur looked at her for a few seconds and then looked back at his food and continued to eat. Molly sank back into her chair, wiping away the tears that were about to fall. She took the pot back to the stove and just stared at the thin soup for a long time. Arthur finished his meal and took it to their small sink that actually had running water. He began to rinse out his dish and spoon.   
  
"I'm sorry." Molly said quietly. "I'm sorry Arthur."  
  
"No, it's alright." he said, turning off the water and drying his hands on the dishrag. "It's not your fault anyway."  
  
"There were more killings." Molly said, picking up the newspaper from the kitchen counter. "It doesn't seem like the killings will ever end, Arthur."   
  
"They will end, someday." Arthur said thoughtfully. "Someday, a hero will rise among us and save us all. And I think that they will be the most remarkable unexpected person in the world."  
  
"I never understood heroes." Molly said, taking Arthur's hand and leading him towards their bedroom. "I mean, you go and save everyone and that's good for you, but then what? There's no room for imagination! It's just fight and fight and then win! What's the point?"  
  
"To confuse the great Molly Weasley, I suppose." Arthur said with a tired smile.   
  
~-~-~-  
  
"Mummy." Bill said.  
  
Bill stood beside his mother's bed, clutching and old rag in his hands. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly. She sat up and slowly got out of bed, kneeling before her son.   
  
"What's wrong?" she whispered.   
  
"They're bleeding." he sobbed. "They hurt."  
  
"Oh, Billy." Molly said, wrapping her arms around her son and picking him up. "Come on, we'll get them cleaned up."  
  
Molly carried her crying son into the kitchen. She sat him on top of the counter. His hands were bleeding again. Often, Bill would have bad dreams of Voldemort and his father. Of which, his hands would start to bleed and hurt. He would wake up and alert his mother, who would take him into the kitchen and run cold, biting water over them. He would cringe and cry, but be very happy when it was all over and his mother could pat them dry with her pajamas.   
  
"I hate daddy," he said bitterly. "I'll hate him forever and ever."  
  
"Everyone makes mistakes." said Molly. "You have to understand that."  
  
"Why do you care?" he snapped. "All you care about it Charlie and Daddy. I wish I were dead!"  
  
"Billy!" Molly cried, embracing him. He pushed her away angrily.   
  
"No! No!" he screamed.  
  
"You're very important to me, Billy." she said.   
  
"No I'm not." he said, sobbing.   
  
"You know what the Healer told me today?" she said to him, picking him up and placing him on the table. "He told me that you are going to have another baby brother. Isn't that wonderful?"  
  
"No. Now you're going to love him more then all of us." said an angry Bill.  
  
"I can't seem to think of a name for him." said Molly quietly. "So, I want you to."  
  
Bill's eyes grew wide. "You want me to name my brother?"  
  
"Yes." she said. "Any name you want."  
  
Bill took almost no time to decide. "I like the name Percival. Percy for short."  
  
Molly stifled a laugh. "Where did you hear that name, Bill?"  
  
"Nowhere." Bill shrugged. "But I like it."  
  
"Right then." Molly nodded. "Percy it is."   
  
~-~-~-  
  
The next day, when Molly told Arthur that she was six months pregnant and was going to have a baby boy named Percival (Percy for short), Arthur blinked and then asked her where on earth she had managed to earth up such a ridiculous name. He suggested a few more common names. Ron. Michael. Charles. Nathan. But, nothing seemed to faze Molly. (You named Charlie! she had protested) Arthur had shook his head and smiled. He supposed the name Percival (Percy for short) had a lot of possibilities for personalities and such. He supposed that it sounded like an intelligent person's name and felt horrible for the child that was bound to be dumb because of his parents.  
  
Every time the subject of Percy was brought up, Bill would sit and grin and enormous grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Charlie would sit and frown a concerned frown, afraid his brother was going mad. When he prodded Bill to play with him, all he wanted to do was sit and listen to their parents talk of the new baby called Percy. Charlie thought it was the most boring thing in the world to listen to, but for one odd reason or another, Bill found it so wonderful that he had to listen. So, Charlie would go off and play all by himself, looking at the pictures in the storybook that his mother had bought for him for his birthday. Well, Charlie thought. Maybe Percy will be more fun then Bill.  
  
"Bill." Charlie said. "Bill come and play."  
  
"I'm busy." said Bill.  
  
"No you're not." Charlie said. "You're just sitting there."  
  
"I'm thinking." Bill said.  
  
"I thought you said you were busy."   
  
"I'm busy thinking."   
  
"Then why didn't you say so?" Charlie said.   
  
"Because you're too dumb to understand anyway." Bill said, getting up and walking away.  
  
Charlie got up off of the cold wooden floor and followed after Bill. Behind him, he dragged his cotton blanket that he had inherited from Bill.   
  
"Bill, read me a story." he said.  
  
"No!" Bill yelled.   
  
"Please, Bill!" Charlie whined.  
  
"Get away from me, Charlie. I'm not going to read you a story." He said, quickening his pace.  
  
Charlie stumbled into a run to keep up with Bill. "If you don't, I'll tell Mummy."  
  
"Mummy doesn't care if I read you a story or not, stupid." Bill said.  
  
"Daddy does! Daddy says you're mad! Daddy says you're a bad boy!" Charlie said.  
  
"I don't care what Your Dad says!" Bill screamed. "I don't care!"  
  
"I bet you mummy will read me a story." Charlie said. "I bet you that she'll read me a story better then you."  
  
Bill turned around abruptly and took his scarred hands against his brother's chest. He shoved him down with all of the annoyance he felt at his brother being loved by their father and not him. The storybook flew from Charlie's hands and hit the hall wall with a loud slapping sound. Charlie fell back, stumbling with his balance before tripping on the fallen storybook. He fell down, hitting his head on the wall. He closed his eyes in shock, but then opened them to stare at his brother in awe. In fear. Tears sprung from his bright blue eyes and he sobbed and wailed loudly. Bill glared at his spoiled little brother until his mother rushed into the wind, carrying a pile of laundry.   
  
"Mummy!" Charlie was wailing.  
  
"What is it, Charlie?" Molly said, dropping the bundle in her arms and going to him. "Did you fall down?"  
  
"Bill pushed me!" he screamed. "He pushed me down!"  
  
"Shh ..." Molly hushed, picking him up. "Bill wouldn't do that."  
  
"Bill's mean!" Charlie screamed. "Yes he would! Yes he would!"  
  
"What's going on?" Arthur said, coming in the room.   
  
"Arthur, will you take Charlie and get him washed up?" She said, handing the sobbing little child to her husband.   
  
Molly sat on the hallway floor and let Bill crawl into her lap. He curled up against her, sobbing quietly. She wrapped her thin arms around him. "I'm a bad boy." he sobbed.   
  
"No." Molly said, nestling her face in his hair. "You are a wonderful boy, Bill."  
  
"But I hurt Charlie."  
  
"We all make mistakes, Bill." said Molly. "It's alright."  
  
"I love you best." He sobbed. "I love you more then I love Charlie or Daddy."   
  
"Would you like to know a secret, Bill?" she said.  
  
He nodded, calming down slightly.   
  
"There is a magical place somewhere." she said. "Where there is only sunshine. And it's all yours Bill. One day, you will come to know it."  
  
"I want to go there now." he said.  
  
"Well, you could." Molly said. "But I would miss you terribly, Bill. Who would help me plant my flowers or finish the last of the cherry pies? It would be very quiet here without you. Even though Charlie or your Dad may not miss you as much as I, I know that I will. So will you stay here with me?"  
  
Bill thought for a minute. "Yes." he said.   
  
"Good man, Bill." she smiled, taking him in her arms and carrying him into the kitchen. "Would you like a glass of milk?"  
  
"Does Charlie get one?" he said sourly.  
  
"No." she said, handing him a glass. "Not tonight, Bill."  
  
~-~-~-  
  
A few months later, Percy was born. Arthur commented that he had blue eyes, just like his mother. The Healer had said that he thought that the baby looked very intelligent, and at this, Molly gave a shrill laugh and said it was impossible for babies to look anything but cute and adorable. Under Molly's bed, there was a box in which she kept all of her children's ribbons from when they were born. And it only gave her more pride in her heart to add Percy's ribbon. Arthur questioned her perseverance in keeping the ribbons, but she said that one day, he would thank her for it.   
  
Arthur had been promoted to maintenance supervisor and was getting tutored by a man in Muggle Studies. Someday, he vowed, he would work in his very own cubicle. He would have his very own desk and even his own little nametag. It was his ultimate dream to become an Auror one day, and go off and save the day like some unlisted hero. To prove his worth in this world. One day, he brought home a strange muggle contraption that played music. When he showed it to his wife, she was amazed.  
  
"Will you dance with me, My Molly?" he said, holding out his hand.   
  
"Arthur, this is silly." she said. "Besides, I have to go and heat Percy's bottle ..."  
  
"Just once?" he said.   
  
"Oh, alright." she sighed, taking his hand.  
  
  
  
Slowly, they swayed to the slow beat of the music. Molly found a million thoughts whirring through her head. The money that they didn't have, Percy's crying in the background. Bill's teddy bear on the floor. Charlie's toy dragon sitting on the kitchen table (Put it away this instant! she had yelled). Percy's crying. Arthur's hair that was still too long. The pillow on the sofa wasn't straight. Percy's crying. The fact that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Arthur's soft humming. Percy's crying. "Percy sounds upset." he commented.   
  
"I'd better --"  
  
"No." he said. "I think Bill has it all under control."  
  
Bill could be heard trying to calm down his little brother and after a few feeble efforts, Percy quieted and all that could be heard was Charlie reading aloud to himself in his room. To her surprise, when she closed her eyes, she heard a heartbeat. For a second, she thought that it was her own brain, pulsating from the stress, and then she realized that it was Arthur's. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, with his eyes closed, slowly humming the music. She was suddenly aware that the music had stopped and that the only music left was that which Arthur was humming.   
  
"Muggles are so lucky." he said slowly as Molly closed her eyes again.  
  
"Really?" she sighed. "Why is that?"  
  
"They've no idea of the horror that You-Know-Who is inflicting on us." he said. "And right now, I'd give anything not to know anything."  
  
"Ignorance is bliss." she agreed.  
  
"You know what I want more then anything in the world?" he said.  
  
"A bowl of ice cream?"  
  
He ignored her comment. "I want to be a hero."  
  
"That's very vague." she said. "It sounds impossible."  
  
"One day, My Molly." he said. "I will be a hero. I will become and Auror and train and become recognized and be in the paper."  
  
"Is that what you would like to be when you grow up?" she giggled.  
  
"When I grow up ..." Arthur repeated. "My Molly, I don't ever want to grow up, but I think all of these boys that we have will force me to very soon. I will soon see streaks of gray in my red hair."  
  
"Whose hair will turn gray first, do you think?" she said whimsically. "Mine or yours?"  
  
"Yours." said Arthur.   
  
"I think yours will." said Molly, smiling.   
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Because I want it to turn gray before mine." said Molly.  
  
"That doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Neither does growing up." Molly retorted.  
  
And as they danced there, Bill picked Percy up out of his crib and got Charlie from his bedroom. They opened the door just a crack so they could see and watched their two parents dance in the light of the Burrow Moon. Even little Percy seemed to be watching. Charlie was holding on to Bill's teddy bear, and for once, Bill didn't slap him to retrieve it. It was a time of peace, where everything around them just seemed oblivious and nothing mattered. It didn't seem like anything would matter. Because, thought Bill, if their parents didn't have to grow up, then why did they?  
  
Growing up was impossible. 


	8. Lessons

Lessons   
  
When Percy was two, Molly had gone to the hospital and given birth to two twins, of whom she named Fred and George. Arthur hadn't been there, of course, because he was working. She had looked at her two small sons and concluded that they looked very small and precious. When Arthur had come later that day, Molly was holding one in each arm, lying on the bed, craving for a slice of cake. Arthur had taken one, and asked how in the world they would tell them apart. Molly had said that perhaps they wouldn't be identical twins and as they grew older, they would look incredibly different and all would be well. Arthur had sighed and commented that if that didn't happen, he would never be able to tell them apart and forever call them by the wrong name.  
  
It was a bit of a nasty shock for Percy when he had to move into another room so that his two new younger brothers could sleep side by side. Molly wanted seperate cribs, but Arthur said that cribs these days were very expensive. So, Fred and George slept in the same cribs that all of their brothers (with the exception of Bill) had slept in. Bill had smiled at his two younger brothers when they came home and said that he could tell them apart already. Arthur had given a halfhearted laugh and had written "George" on one side of the crib and "Fred" on the other, so Molly would know where to put which twin so that he would know which was which. Molly had said that as a father, he should be able to tell which one was Fred and which was George and needn't label the crib. Arthur had sighed and told her to tell Percy to stop pestering Bill to read to him.   
  
And so, after a few months of adjusting to Fred and George, things returned to almost normal because things could never really truly be normal in a Weasley household. What, with five small children and all, it's hard to be semi-normal. But, they got by. Gringott's was beginning to get to know them by their almost late payments and so was Seth, who got a letter now and then, asking for a little money for Christmas or a birthday, or for just a house payment. With Bill always trying to make his little brothers behave and his little brothers always trying to purposely defy him, things were never really at peace. Someone was always screaming, or crying or wailing or whimpering or asking for food or books or toys or a bath or a change. And just when Molly almost though to complain, she stopped herself, because she knew that she wouldn't change anything in her life for the world.  
  
One day, Molly held little George on her lap while little Fred sat in his high chair, clanging a spoon on his tray. It was late, and suddenly Molly heard the clock chime midnight. It was customary that her two twins were up at midnight because they were always up when she needed to sleep and asleep when she needed them for a bath. Molly listened intently for the sound of the shower upstairs, but it never came. George began to feel limp in her arms and when she looked down, she saw that he had fallen asleep and so had Fred, who was slumped in his high chair. She laughed and, knowing full and well that Bill didn't sleep until he was sure his younger siblings were asleep, called for Bill. He came in and took the sleeping Fred out of his high chair and out of the room, into the crib he shared with his brother.   
  
"Thank you." she whispered to Bill in the darkness.   
  
Bill started to crank the small music box on the table. "Is dad home?"  
  
"No." she sighed. "I hope he's alright."  
  
"Maybe he's out drinking." Bill said coldly.   
  
"Bill." she whispered. "I expect you'll be getting your Hogwart's letter soon."  
  
"What if I don't get in?" Bill said. "What if I'm not good enough to go to Hogwart's?"  
  
"You will get in." Molly whispered. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore won't allow one of my children not to be admitted. After all, he is the reason you're alive."  
  
"What do you mean?" Bill said, perplexed.  
  
"Well, don't tell any of your brothers." Molly whispered on the verge of laughter. "But Dumbledore married your father and I."   
  
"He did?" Bill said, his blue eyes growing wider. "Wow! That's --"  
  
Suddenly, the muggle phone that Arthur insisted they have rang and pelted through the silence of the house. Molly swept past Bill and into their kitchen. She picked up the phone and held it to her, just as Arthur had done. She wasn't quite sure how the thing worked. After a few seconds, someone started to talk out of the phone. Molly jumped.   
  
"Mrs. Weasley." said the man. "This is Cornelius Fudge. I am the man that tutors your husband at muggle studies. I expect he's told you about me. Yes, well, I just want you to know that he's been fired from his post as Maintenance Manager."  
  
"Fired?" Molly said incredulously.   
  
"Yes." said Fudge. "He's been fired for a week now. Hasn't been to work at all. I'm getting to be worried about him. Someone said that they saw him at a Bar in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago. I'm worried about him. Arthur is a good man, but a bit stupid at times. Well, we're all young at a time, now aren't we?"  
  
"What?" Molly whimpered, tears flowing from her eyes. "What's he gotten fired for?"  
  
"Oh." said Fudge. "He didn't tell you? An Auror insulted his family. He said that Arthur was starving his children and beating his wife. Oh, I must say, I never did see a man go off as Arthur did. The man had to be rushed to St. Mungo's. He deserved it, but being an Auror, he won't receive such severe punishment as Arthur. The Minister was going to send him to prison for assault, but since Arthur had several young children, he decided to have mercy and just fire him."   
  
Molly was silent.  
  
"Judging by your reaction, he obviously didn't tell you." said Fudge. "My dear Mrs. Weasley, I would go and find him before it is too late. I'm very sorry for your husband and your family. I hope that somehow, you will get through this hard time. Well, I must go. I wish you well, Mrs. Weasley."  
  
There was a click at the other end.  
  
Molly fumbled the phone back into its cradle and rushed to get her cloak. She was suddenly glad that she hadn't gotten into her pajamas yet, she ran into Bill's room and told him to sit in the living room after getting all of his brothers up and in there as well. Molly rushed back to the phone and punched the numbers that Arthur told her to hit if she ever needed Seth. She listened to the strange ringing sound until Seth's voice finally got through. Molly told him of Arthur quickly and asked him if he could quickly come and baby-sit her children while she went and found her husband. Before she fumbled the phone back onto the cradle, Seth had appeared in the big stone fireplace. She took him into the living room, where Bill was carrying George in.  
  
Too flushed with worry and fear, she could only smile at them before grabbing the floo powder and going to the entrance to Hogsmeade.  
  
The night was cold and bitter and she shrugged the patched cloak around her neck and closed her eyes. Ahead of her, she saw the only Bar that was open in the middle of the night. Her patched boots clicked annoyingly at the gravel. Arthur, drunk? The very thought brought tears to her cold eyes. She thought how the fire would burn in Bill's eyes if she told him that his father had gone out and gotten drunk again. And, he had gotten fired as well! Where would their next meal come from? Christmas was just around the corner and Molly felt that her children needed wonderful presents for them to feel loved. She sighed as she reached the entrance. She could hear discourteous comments and rough language. She suddenly wished she didn't have to go in, but clasped her thin hand on the door handle and yanked it open.  
  
The hot air of sweat and brewing alcohol blew against her cold cheeks. She searched the bar for Arthur and saw what appeared to be the back of his head, staring down at a mug at a table in the corner. She walked across the room, keeping her eyes focused at her husband. The drunken men around her made her feel very uncomfortable and awkward. She ducked past a man who was peering her with a drunken stare. It seemed ages until she finally reached him. He didn't look up, but she knew that he knew she was there. She sat across from him on the filthy wooden bench. Across the room, a man heartily offered to buy drinks for everyone, claiming he had won the lottery. Arthur looked stressed, his hair messed up and his face dirty. He did not look like the man that Molly had married and loved and cherished, yet she knew it was him.  
  
And she was losing him.   
  
"Were you trying to drink me away, Arthur?" she asked him. "Were you trying not to think of the responsibilities and duties we have as adults and not to mention parents?"  
  
"I can't handle it." he shrugged. "I just can't. I can't handle being responsible for lives that aren't my own."  
  
"So you went off and drank them away?" she said softly. "Arthur, you can't just drink away your children, your life, your job. Me."   
  
He looked up.   
  
"I know that things hardly ever look good for us." she said. "It looks like we'll always live in a world of bad luck. But Arthur, this is our life. This is where we belong and even if you had taken off and moved to Peru, I would still be your wife and the mother of your five children. You can't change that. I can't change that. This is your life, Arthur Weasley and I hope you realize that you can't just drink it away as if it were nothing."  
  
Arthur looked down at his empty mug.  
  
"Remember when you told me that you wanted to be a hero, Arthur?" she said. "The funny thing is, you are a hero. You are a hero to those five little boys who you feed and clothe and give joy to. Even though you may get so intoxicated you don't even remember them and even though you may claim you never loved them, you will always be their hero. That's not ever going to change. If you run away, they'll just want to chase after you and find you. Is that what you want, Arthur? Do you want to run away from us?"  
  
Arthur looked at her.   
  
"I wouldn't stop you if you did." she said. "If you wanted to get on the next train to China or Taiwan, I wouldn't. I'd let you go. I'd see you off, Arthur. I'd even pack your bags if that's what you wanted. But, if you went, I would never stop loving you. I would never stop wanting you to come back to me. I'd never stop waiting at the train station or on the last step on the front porch. I'd never stop waiting for the sound of the shower upstairs. And even if you were gone fifty years, I would still wait for you. And even now, Arthur. I won't make you come home if you don't wish to."  
  
"What I'm trying to say," she said, forcing a shaky smile. "Is that I will always hope you will come home and I will always welcome you, no matter what stupid thing you've done. Will you come home, Arthur?"  
  
He said nothing, but just stared at her with unreadable eyes.  
  
At his silence, her eyes suddenly became disheartened. "So, this is how you want it?" she said sadly. "Then, all right. Good bye, Arthur."   
  
Before he could see her cry, she rose from the bench and ran through the bar and out the front door into the biting cold. She sobbed into the cold night air, the wind knocking her red hair from her face. She thought to run to the floo entrance, but decided she would take the train. She had a few sickles in her pocket after all. But, oh how she wished that Arthur would be coming with her. She proceeded to walk through the snowy streets of Hogsmeade, the slushy snow seeping through her boots. Behind her, she heard a door open and faint voices of a Bar fill the air before they were shut out when the door was closed. Molly stopped hopefully and turned around just as a light snow began to fall.   
  
"I couldn't." he said, his words becoming mist in the cold air. "I just couldn't. Even if I wanted to visit Paris and love some wonderful Veela, I couldn't. Do you hear me, Molly Weasley? I couldn't!"  
  
"Oh, Arthur." she cried, embracing him.   
  
"I would never run away." he said into her hair. "Never."  
  
She looked up at him, the tears glistening in her eyes. "No matter how much we need you?"  
  
"Molly!" he laughed. "That' the very reason that I can't run away! Not now, not tomorrow or ever! Oh, My Molly! I love you more then ever right now!"   
  
He put his arm around her shoulder and they started to walk through the snowy streets of Hogsmeade to the Train Station. They passed old shops that they remembered from their school days. They passed places where they would have stopped to sit at if it wasn't snowing. The snow stuck decidedly to the ground around them (How wonderful! exclaimed Molly) and the sky above them was starless and comforting. For once, they joked around about things that seemed too immature for adults. They laughed like teenagers and forgot about all of their responsibilities and duties for a while. And for a while, it was lovely. They talked of Quidditch, of old professors , of paintings and of flowers. Sometimes, a child's name would slip into their conversation, but it never fazed them. A few blocks before they reached the train station, Molly stopped dead in her tracks. Arthur stepped back in surprise.  
  
"Look, Arthur." she said in a soft whisper.  
  
Arthur turned his head to see the endless hills of stones. In these stones, there would forever be etched memories of the dead for the hopes of the living. Suddenly, the old pain of Laura came back to him, as fresh and hurtful as ever. He felt tears come to his dry eyes as he remembered his first unborn daughter. He knew what row, what grave she was. He remembered her inscription. He remembered her Ribbon that was burned in the fire of their first home. The Ribbon that had encircled her cold, dead wrist. He shivered and looked to his wife, who was smiling softly at the graves. She took his hand and together, they started to walk down the endless rows of graves and tombs. They passed them like old shadows. In the silence of the snow, there seemed to be an odd symphony in the background. The songs of the dead. The hymns of the unborn. Molly turned abruptly at the thirtieth row and proceeded fourteen gravestones and then stopped.  
  
"Oh, Arthur!" she cried, dropping to her knees in greif and sobbing into her cold hands.   
  
He knelt beside her and wrapped his arms (which were feeling quite wobbly) around her. He buried his face in her hair as she sobbed.   
  
He let her sob until her sobs dissolved into a soft crying. She looked up and stared at the rock with her daughters name engraved in it. She reached out and touched the same letters that would always be etched into her soul. She kissed her hand and placed it on the cold rock. Arthur sighed and stood up. He took her hand and, with some difficulty, made her stand and start to walk again. As they exited Hogsmeade, Molly sighed deeply. She took Arthur's gloved hand in her bare one and looked up to him.   
  
"What kind of person do you think she would've been, Arthur?" she said.  
  
"A very beautiful person. She would have had red hair." said Arthur. "And blue eyes."  
  
Molly let out a sob as Arthur turned towards her. "After she died, I held her in my arms while you were out paying the bill. I will never forget how lifeless and how cold she felt. How her cold, dead eyes just stared at me like I was some horrible mother and it was all my fault." she sobbed.  
  
"Molly." he sighed.  
  
"Her eyes were gray." she said quietly. "Just like yours."  
  
Arthur was silent.   
  
"She would've been more like you, Arthur. Her mind would have been quick and she would've been slim and nimble."  
  
"I don't want to talk about this." Arthur said, almost angrily.   
  
"She would've been a hard worker." Molly said. "But most of all, she would've been loving. She would've been nothing like me, Arthur. And I think I would've loved her for that."  
  
"She would've been reckless and stupid, like me." he scoffed. "She would've been impatient. You would love her for that?"   
  
"Yes." Molly assured him. "I would have loved her all the more."   
  
Arthur smiled at his wife as the train station came into view. They managed to buy their ticket and board the train just as it was pulling out of the station. The seats were like benches, lined up against the wall and facing each other. There was no one else on that train except for Arthur and Molly. Arthur took Molly's hand and went to the very end of a bench and leaned against the wall. He leaned one leg against the back of the seat and let one foot swing carelessly to the floor. Molly walked over and sat next to Arthur, looking quietly at the ground. Arthur looked around the cabin, aware that no one else was on the train except the two of them. He grabbed Molly's arm and pulled her against him. She giggled and then nestled her head against his chest.   
  
They didn't talk at all. The snow turned into a heavy rain and it beat like a rhythm against the window. Arthur looked down at his wife and watched the reflections of the raindrops and scenery dance across her pale, porcelain skin. He didn't think of how long the train ride would take. He didn't think of how Seth would kill him as soon as he got home. He didn't think about money, or bills or where to get a job. He just thought of the rain pounding softly against the window and how strange it was that the cabin was warm. He closed his eyes and inhaled his wife's shampoo. His last thought before he fell asleep was a wonderful one, in an open field surrounded by a funny smell.   
  
Lavender.  
  
~-~-~-~-  
  
"Mummy!" Percy wailed, running up to her when she opened the front door. "Mummy! Ow! Mummy!"  
  
Molly sighed and picked Percy up, book and all and carried him into the living room with his brothers. The only three words that Percy knew were 'Mummy' , 'Dad' and 'Ow'. Molly never knew what he wanted, and always thought he was hurt when he came running up, screaming "Ow!" She heard Arthur close the door behind him. She put Percy down on the sofa and saw Bill, glaring angrily at his father. Arthur pretended not to notice his son, and sighed, running his hands through his hair. Seth walked in the room, carrying Fred in his arms as he cried. Immediately, when Fred caught sight of his father, he stopped crying and reached his hands out for him. Arthur was about to take him, when Seth turned away from him.   
  
"Is he still drunk?" he asked Molly.   
  
"Thank you, Seth." Molly said, taking Fred from him. "Where is George?"   
  
"Charlie is playing with him in his room." Seth said to Molly. "Bill won't talk to me, Charlie won't talk to Bill. Fred needs a diaper change and George needs a bottle. And Percy," Seth stopped to look at Percy who was reaching up at his father, still saying 'Ow'. "God knows what Percy wants."  
  
"Alright." Molly said, smiling. "Bill, would you please go get George and give him a bottle. Take Fred with you. Give Percy what he wants and tell Charlie that he needs to stop reading George out of those dusty books. He could get sick."   
  
"Yes, mum." Bill said, taking Fred from his mother and taking Percy by the hand. Before he left, he glared at his father. "Bet you're still drunk."  
  
Molly sighed as Bill started to trudge up the Burrow Stairs. Seth sighed angrily and ran his hands through his hair. Molly went into the kitchen and poured out the coffee pot that Seth had started into three chipped mugs. She brought them in on a tray and told Arthur to sit down. He did so, reluctantly, apparently afraid of what Seth had to say to him. Molly was the only one to take her coffee mug and start to sip it nervously.   
  
"My bloody head is killing me." Arthur said. "I think I'll go take a nap."   
  
"I don't think so." Seth said. "Sit down."  
  
"You can't tell me --"  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I can." Seth said dangerously. "I took care of your children all night, Arthur. They're truly wonderful children, I must admit."  
  
"I'm sorry, Seth." Molly said quietly. "It's just --"  
  
"It's not your fault, Molly." Seth said. "It's your drunk husband's fault."   
  
"I don't have to listen to this." Arthur said, standing up.   
  
"The hell you do!" Seth yelled, standing up. "What kind of example are you setting for your children? Getting drunk in the middle of the night and going off to some bar when you're supposed to be going to work! Getting fired for fighting and then getting so intoxicated that you force your wife to go out to a dingy bar and get you? Are those the kind of people that you want your children to become?"   
  
Arthur looked at Seth square in the eye.  
  
"This isn't Hogwart's anymore, Arthur." said Seth. "You said so yourself. You can't just abandon your duties and then expect someone else to take care of it while you go out and have a good time! Your children count on you! They expect a father who will come home sober. They expect a good toy once in a while. They expect a hot meal three times a day! Who gave you the right to deny them that, Arthur Weasley?"  
  
Arthur was still silent.  
  
"I don't give a damn if you don't answer me or if you hate me, but if there's anything that I've learned from chasing down Voldemort, it's this. Life is more precious then anything. It can't be replaced. And once its ruined, it can't be fixed. And every life means something. And for you to create five lives and let them perish is inhuman." Seth said. "I thought that Laura would've taught you that."  
  
"Fine!" Arthur yelled. "I'm a horrible excuse for a human being! I'm a horrible excuse for a father! I don't deserve a lovely wife or children! Are you happy now, Seth? I admit it! I deserve eternal damnation! Are you happy?"   
  
"This isn't even about you or me!" Seth said. "This is about your children! This is about the life that you are leading them to! And you're not a horrible human being, Arthur, you're just a particularly stupid one! Your first home burns down and you almost lose your wife and child because you were out getting drunk. And now, you're doing it again! I know that you know what could happen, Arthur. The question is, do you even care?"  
  
"Of course I care!" Arthur yelled. "That's why I went to work every day! That's why I came home at night! That's why I worked late at night and came in early in the mornings!"   
  
"Then, don't tell it to me." Seth said. "Tell it to your children. Tell it to the children that you let down. Tell it to your wife who went out and looked for you in the cold bitter snow!"   
  
Seth glanced up at the clock that was mounted on the wall. He sighed and walked over to Molly. "I've got to go, now. Take care, Molly, you too Arthur. If you ever need anything else, you know how to get me."   
  
With that, he pulled out his wand and apparated with a small pop out of the room. Molly looked up at Arthur, who was looking dizzily at the coffee. He looked to the ceiling and then at his wife, who was looking back at him, clasping an empty mug of coffee. He gave her a smile and then retreated up the Burrow Stairs to get some rest.  
  
~-~-~-  
  
The next day, Molly went out to apply for a job at Honeyduke's, where they were looking for a cashier. In her best set of clothes, she entered the small shop. Honeyduke's was a poor shop, but its candy was delicious and cheap, so its most popular customers were children. Molly had loved to go there when she was in third year, and when she entered the shop, she saw that it hadn't changed in the slightest bit since she had gone in there as a third year student at Hogwart's. Honeyduke's didn't sell exotic, expensive, well known candy such as Sugar Quills and such. They only sold the best tasting, simple candy. Mostly because that's all that they could afford, but also because it was simple and delicious.  
  
"Might I help you?" said the elderly man at the cashier. "We don't get many adult customers around here. Are you shopping for your children?"   
  
"Oh, no." Molly smiled. "My name is Molly Weasley. I'm here for the job offer as cashier."  
  
"I see." the man said gravely, nodding. "Did you finish school?"  
  
"Well, no." she said slowly. "But I can count."   
  
"Well, I'm sorry Molly Weasley, I can't give you the job if you didn't finish school. How do I know that you're smart enough to operate a cash register or count out change? How do I know that you could protect the children in the shop if someone came in and started to attack them?" he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."  
  
He started to walk into the back room, but Molly grabbed his arm. "You don't understand, sir! I have five hungry, small boys at home and a husband that was just fired. I need this job. I didn't finish school because I was pregnant. I was married at sixteen. My first daughter died right after she was born. We never have enough money and Gringott's has lost its patience with us. Please, give me this job, sir! I love children and I've always loved coming here."  
  
The man turned around and looked at her thoughtfully. "I'll give you one chance, Molly Weasley. If I catch you giving the wrong change to one child or sneaking one gumball for a little girl with no money, you're gone."  
  
"Yes, sir." Molly said, gratefully. "Thank you so much! Oh, I won't let you down! I promise!"  
  
Molly had rushed back home, through the floo entrance. Arthur was seated on the couch, surrounded by books and peculiar muggle objects. Molly disregarded it, running upstairs to tell Bill the wonderful news. He had smiled, but it was a sad smile. Molly had sat next to him and put her arm around him and asked him what was wrong.   
  
"You'll always be at work." he said. "Dad doesn't know the first thing about taking care of us. He doesn't know what Fred and George need, or why they cry. He doesn't know how to read to Charlie about dragons. He doesn't know what Percy wants when he says 'Ow.' "  
  
"Give him a chance, Bill." Molly said. "He might surprise you."  
  
"I hate him." Bill said angrily. "I will always hate him. You promised you wouldn't love him or any of my brothers more then you love me."  
  
"Bill, I love you." she said quietly. "And I love your father. I love all of your brothers. But, it's not that I love them more then you and its not that I love them differently. I love so many things about you. I love other things about your father and brothers. But, listen to me, Bill. None of your brothers or your father will ever, ever have more love then you. I know I can't promise you a wonderful house or wonderful toys at Christmas. But, I can promise you that."  
  
"Okay." Bill smiled. "Mum, when my brothers and me go to Hogwart's, will we get teased?"  
  
"Why on earth would get teased for?" Molly said.  
  
"Because we're poor." said Bill. "Because all of our robes and school books will be second hand. Because we'll have the brightest red hair in all the school."  
  
"Bill," Molly said, smiling. "I'm not asking you to be the most popular boy in school. I'm not asking you to be the smartest or the strongest. But, you must never, ever let people tell you that you can't do something. Because, my dear, there is absolutely nothing that you can't do."  
  
"What if I became Head Boy?" Bill said. "What if I was Quidditch Captain?"   
  
"That would be very wonderful." Molly admitted. "But, you must understand, if you were to be a complete failure at everything, I would still love you just the same because you are My Bill. No one else can be My Bill, not Charlie or Fred or George or Percy or even your father. We've survived the slimmest of odds, Bill, you and I. We've faced down You-Know-Who and lived. I am not capable of any more, I'm sure. But, you, Bill. I believe you will be someone truly great."   
  
Bill was silent, but his eyes said all that Molly needed to know.  
  
Molly went downstairs and sat on the bottom step, watching Arthur put together and take apart a strange muggle contraption. It was a shiny sort of thing, and he kept putting toast in it and every few seconds it would shriek and the toast would pop out. The most amazing part was that the jumping toast needed not a wand wave or an incantation, it just needed strange round cells that Arthur called batteries. He made the toast jump over and over, and every time, it became more and more black and burned.   
  
"What are you doing?" Molly finally asked. "What are all these books for?"   
  
"I'm going to study." said Arthur. "I'm going to major in Muggle Studies and work at the Ministry. The Minister of Magic said that if I passed the Exam with a perfect score, I could go back and work in the Muggle Studies Department. Isn't it grand?"   
  
"Muggles?" Molly scoffed. "They're terribly boring, don't you think?"  
  
"No!" Arthur said. "Not in the least. You'd be surprised by the number of things these muggles have invented to aid them without magic."   
  
"Like that toast thing you're playing with?" she said.  
  
"Yes." He nodded. "It's quite convenient. But, to learn about muggles would be truly fascinating and I think it'll be a wonderful thing to learn about things from a different point of view. You know, being the purebloods we are, Molly, we don't know a thing about muggles."  
  
"You're right." she sighed. "I do wish that I was muggle born. It seems more lovely and dreamy like to be a muggle. To dream of magic and flying things is one thing, a truly magical thing. But, to actually live the dream, well it can get rather boring."  
  
"Won't it be wonderful, though, that I'll have a high paying job! Our children can get toys at Christmas. Maybe I'll even set up Quidditch rings in the backyard." Arthur smiled. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?"  
  
"That would be wonderful." Molly said thoughtfully as Arthur reloaded the silver thing. "But you know what I'd like?"  
  
"What would you like, Molly dearest?" he said, looking at her.  
  
She got up and caught the toast in mid-air as it jumped up. "Breakfast, my dear. Breakfast."  
  
As she went back up the Burrow Stairs he found himself smiling a goofy sort of a smile as he thought of all the things to come. It was true, they didn't live a rich, luxurious life or a perfect one. But, it was the imperfections that made it all the better. Arthur sighed, ran his hands through his hair and turned the next page in his book. 


	9. Ron and Ginny

Ron and Ginny  
  
When Ron was only a year old, his mother took him in her arms and whispered in his small, precious ear something that marked the end of the age of suffering, of horror and began the time of peace, of calm. The time or raising little ones and crying over spilled bottles with warm milk had begun with the words she whispered into her little one's ear. She was pregnant with yet another child, but little Ron still managed to hold her heart in his dear, blue eyes.   
  
"It's over, Little One. There's no more bad in the world. A new sun has risen on this forsaken world and it is the age of innocence once more." she whispered as tears of joy leaked out of her eyes.   
  
A month after the fall of Voldemort, Dumbledore paid a visit to Honeyduke's, looking for lemon drops to fulfill his sweet tooth. Molly sat behind the counter, looking pregnant as she ever did, munching compulsively on Terry Torrel's Tickly Tart Taffy while flipping through a rather large book of Baby Names. Dumbledore smiled at his former student and remembered his old drawer with all of the smiling toddlers. He was expecting a new picture very soon, from the looks of it. He coughed politely and Molly looked up and warmth filled her face as she walked over to her old teacher and threw her arms around him. He embraced her back, laughing slightly. She drew back and held him at arm's length, studying him as she smiled.  
  
"Look at you!" she said. "You look so old, professor! I can't believe it."  
  
"From the looks of it, you seem to have gotten quite plump over the years." he said, grinning.   
  
"What do you expect from seven pregnancies?" Molly laughed.   
  
"It doesn't seem to help that you are sitting in this candy store eating every piece of candy that comes into your sight." he said, taking the Terry Torrel's Tickly Tart Taffy wrapper from her hand. "Taffy is bad for your teeth."   
  
"Candy is good for the soul." she smiled, but then her smile became a serious look of concern. "Is it true?" she whispered. "Are the rumors true?"  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid." Dumbledore nodded. "Lily and James Potter are dead and little Harry Potter is off to the care of his muggle relations."  
  
"You can't do that, Professor!" Molly cried. "I'll take in Harry, believe me, another child won't make a difference. I'll treat him as if he were my son, I'll teach him well. Don't send him off into a world seperate from ours!"  
  
"He's better off growing up away from all of this." Dumbledore sighed, and from the sound of it, it sounded like he had said it many times before.  
  
"I owe Lily Evans so much, Professor. What would she say if I didn't take in her little boy?"  
  
"She would say that she loved you just the same, Molly Weasley." Dumbledore said. "Meanwhile, you've your own flock of Weasley's to look after. You must promise, if any of your children ever become friends or come to know Harry, you must not say you knew his parents."  
  
"But -- why?"   
  
"There is danger still in this world. Peace is never permanent, Molly Weasley. There always seems to be some evil lurking around in this world. I'm afraid that Harry's future is filled with such danger. You should not burden him with the memory of his parents until it is all over." Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
"But it is over!" Molly said. "There are parades in the streets, songs in the air! It is over, the killings, the massacres!"  
  
"It is but the beginning of an era." said Dumbledore, pressing a golden galleon into her hand as he took a bag of Lemon Drops from the shelf beside him.   
  
Molly closed her hand around the golden galleon as she watched Dumbledore walk out of the store. She sighed, ran her hand through her thick red hair. The manager was gone for the day and she decided to close early for the day. She absentmindedly flicked her wand and watched the candles burn out. Hogwart's students still roamed the streets, laughing and jeering, but her day, she decided was over. As she stood in the dark store, looking over at the Gully Goose's Glowing Gumballs, she let a single tear fall for her dead friend and little Harry Potter.  
  
---  
  
She got a letter from Bill the day that Ginny turned four. He told her that he was doing well, but never let on that he was being teased for his tattered books and patched robes. He said that he occupied his time with studies or watching Quidditch Practices. He planned to go out for the team next year, he said. He wanted to be the Keeper. Molly eagerly wrote Bill about the doings of his baby sister, Ginny and said to keep an eye on Charlie. Charlie, she had learned from Bill, was training in secret with current Seeker and was to try out for the team the next year. When Molly had told Arthur of his Quidditch Crazy boys, he had just grinned as little Ron started to sob in his lap.   
  
"Like father, like son, what I always say." Arthur said. "They'll do fine, and as long as we keep our heads above water and debt, we'll have enough money to buy them almost brand new second hand broomsticks!"   
  
"Oh ..." Molly sighed softly, started to walk up the stairs.  
  
"Don't you pout, Dearest. We can't possibly afford brand new, shiny broomsticks and you know that. Charlie and Bill will be fine." he shouted up the stairs.   
  
"Father, would you please tell Ronald to stop crying like that. I can't study." Percy said from the wooden seat in the corner.   
  
Arthur sighed and walked over the room to Percy, who was surrounded by heavy, second hand books and sat the sobbing Ron into his lap. "You're a smart boy, Percy. Ron will listen to you. I've got to get to get to the Ministry."   
  
"What for?" Percy said, putting his arms around his little brother.   
  
"Pethy." Ron lisped, the gap between his two front teeth making it terribly hard for him to speak properly.  
  
"I've got an exam to take. Hopefully, I'll get that perfect score and we can get you some brand new thick books for you to read." he said, smiling. "And maybe we can get those glasses of yours repaired."   
  
"Pethy." Ron lisped again.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with my second hand books or my glasses." Percy said, pushing them up on his nose, only to have them slip back down again. "Bill says we can't afford new things. I wouldn't like to be such a burden."   
  
"Peth-y! Peth-y!" Ron grabbed his brother's shirt.  
  
"You're not a burden." Arthur reassured him, grabbing his coat. "Keep an eye on your brothers and your sister. Mind your mother and put down those dusty books once in a while, Percy. There's only so much you can know at your age and Hogwart's doesn't expect you to be a scholar during your First Year."   
  
Percy pushed his glasses up on his nose again as his father walked out of the door and his mother descended down the stairs. "Oh, he's gone already. I wanted to wish him good luck." she sighed. Fred came stumbling into the room on his short legs. He jumped up onto the bottom stair and threw a teddy bear at George, who had come stumbling in the room as well, a toy wand in his hand. Molly opened her mouth to yell, but heard Ginny up the stairs wailing. "Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!"   
  
"Pethy!" Ron lisped.  
  
"Oh, what is it? Can't you see I'm working?" Percy said, pushing Ron off of his lap and onto the floor where he landed with a thud.  
  
"I want to pway Cheese!" he grinned.  
  
"Cheese is a food item. You cannot play Cheese." Percy explained, pushing the glasses up on his nose. "However, if you mean chess, you have no idea how to play chess and I have no intention on teaching you, little brother."  
  
Ron sighed and sulked away, hands stuffed in the oversized pockets of the pants he had inherited from Charlie. He walked into the kitchen where Fred and George sat on the kitchen table, Ron's teddy bear between them. Ron climbed up onto a chair and sat, looking up at his brothers. When he made a reach for his toy, Fred snatched it away and held it above his head. Ron stood up on the chair and reached up as far as his short arms could reach and found that he still could not reach it.   
  
"Gimme! Gimme! Fwed!" he squealed.   
  
"Oh, hush now, Ron." George said. "We'll give you back your ruddy bear. Just hold out your hand and be very quiet."   
  
"Okay, George." Ron said, sticking out his small hand.   
  
"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, coming into the room. Her index finger was slightly in her mouth, and her pajama shoulder sagged, revealing her pale skin underneath. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Keep out of this Ginny. Boys only." Fred said, slowly lowering the bear into Ron's hand. Suddenly, he yelled to George. "Now, George! Do it now!"  
  
With a powerful gesture, George muttered some funny words and brought the toy wand down on the teddy bear. Like lightning, the fuzzy shape morphed into a rather large, hairy tarantula. It was about as big as Ron's small hand and his blue eyes widened to the size of Percy's glasses when he saw what his beloved bear had become.  
  
Ginny screamed from the other side of the room. "Percy! Percy! Percy! Percy! Percy! Help! Percy!" She ran into the other room, oversized pajamas flapping after her.  
  
Ron, being only a child of five and only having seen the small spiders in the attic (and even then he was afraid) was completely horrified with the sight of this monstrous thing on his hand. Now, having a rather large spider on his hand, he was afraid that screaming would make it eat him or something of the sort, so he just stood still while his two brothers sat eyeballing him, waiting for a reaction. And then, the spider moved. It took its grossly hairy leg and put it right on Ron's wrist, intending to climb up it.   
  
Well, what do you expect? The poor thing screamed bloody murder.  
  
"What is all of this noise about?" Percy asked, carrying Ginny into the room. "Doesn't anyone care that I'm studying!"  
  
"MUMMY!" Ron sobbed loudly. "MUMMY!"  
  
The spider was casually crawling across the floor, towards Percy. Ginny screamed and hugged Percy's neck and Percy took Bill's snow shoe that was conveniently left behind the door and started to whack the eight legged villain into the floor. Now, it takes much more then an old shoe to kill a spider that large, so naturally it twitched and scampered more towards Percy again. Percy jumped back, almost yelling himself and frantically started to slam the shoe down on it. Percy, though to this day won't admit it, was and is afraid of spiders, so he turned his head away and blindly hit the spider until he dared look. The thing was gone, and replaced was Ron's teddy bear, all ripped and the cotton coming out of several different places.  
  
"Curse these transfiguration spells." Percy muttered. "Be quiet, you two! Stop laughing, this is not laughing matter! When Mum gets through with you, we'll see if you ever want to laugh again!"  
  
"Bad. Bad. Bad." Ginny said, pointing at Fred and George, who were attempting to calm themselves.. "Poor Big Brother. Poor Poor Big Brother."  
  
When Molly did get down the stairs and "through" with Fred and George, they were sent to bed without any dinner and had to eat spinach with broccoli for the next week. Percy had suggested domestic violence as a more suitable punishment, but Molly had told him that she wouldn't hit her children just for discipline. Percy had shrugged and went back to his wooden chair and his thick books while Ginny fell asleep on the couch, having listened to Percy lecture of things she didn't care to be lectured on. And Ron. still sniffling, went up in the arms of Molly Weasley to her bedroom in the Burrow. She sat on the bed with him, still sobbing into her chest. She stroked his face and sighed.   
  
"Shush now, Ron. The spider is gone. Fred and George are being punished. It is over, little one." she said, embracing him.   
  
"I hate spiders." Ron sobbed.   
  
"Well, to be honest, I'm not too fond of them myself." Molly agreed. "But, you are so much bigger then those tiny little spiders. You've no reason to be afraid of them."   
  
"Yes I do." Ron sobbed.  
  
"We're all afraid of something, my dear." Molly said. "Fred is afraid of girls, George is afraid of baths, Percy is afraid of failing Hogwart's, Ginny is afraid of well, everything. Charlie is afraid of Bill when he's angry and Bill is afraid of getting angry at Charlie."   
  
"I hate spiders." Ron said. "I hate them."  
  
Ginny, having woken up from her five-minute nap skipped happily into the room and jumped up onto the tall bed beside her mother and her brother. She smiled at Ron, who squirmed in his mother's arms. "I want to play, Ron." she said in her tiny voice. "Can we play?"   
  
"Not tonight, Ginny. Tonight, it is time for bed. Now, go tell Percy to close his books and get into bed and tell Fred and George that I can hear them laughing all the way up here and that they'd better quit or else." Molly smiled.   
  
"Okay." Ginny hopped off of the bed and ran out of the room.  
  
Fred and George shared a room, being as inseparable as they were, it was downstairs. Arthur had supposed it was meant to be a guest bedroom or something, but it was the only other bedroom available in the house. Bill had his own room, after a very long battle between Molly and Arthur and Percy shared a room with Charlie. Beds were still expensive and on a candy cashier's budget, they could not afford to knock out walls and create new rooms, nor could they afford to buy seperate beds for Ron and Ginny. But, being the small children they were, they didn't mind sharing a bed. Ron thought it quite handy to share a bed with Ginny, that way, if he needed a glass of water or anything, he could wake her up to go get it and she would. If his parents caught him up, they would yell at him (A growing boy needs his rest! declared Arthur) , but if they caught Ginny, they'd let her have her way. Ginny always got her way, being the youngest and the only girl among them.  
  
"Good night, Ron." she whispered when she got into the bed.  
  
"Night, Ginny." he whispered, turning over on his side.  
  
The dark room was quiet for a long time. "I'm scared of the dark, Ron."   
  
"Go tell Mum." Ron muttered.  
  
"Mummy is tired." Ginny whimpered. "I'm scared."  
  
"You weren't scared before." Ron yawned.  
  
"That's because I fell asleep before you turned off the lights." Ginny said, tugging at his arm. "I'm scared."   
  
"I can't do anything, Ginny."   
  
"Yes, you can." Ginny said, clutching his arm. "Catch me some."  
  
"Catch you some what?" Ron said, turning over to face her.   
  
"Fireflies." Ginny said. "Ple-ase?"   
  
Ron decided that he apparently wouldn't be allowed sleep if he did not go and get Ginny's fireflies, so he rolled himself out of the bed and onto the cold floor. Since Percy was still awake (he was always awake) and Ron did not want to get into any more trouble, he crept over to the old window and with some difficulty pushed it open. Not knowing the dangers of sitting on a second story window in the middle of the night, he grabbed a jar of candy that had but a few Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans still in it and crept out into the night. He could hear Ginny sit up in bed as he sat, the wind rustling his red hair. He saw fireflies around him, and he held out the jar, thinking that fireflies were somehow fond of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and would fly in to eat them. Crickets chirped on the ground and the stars held fast in the black sky. The moon was full and Ron thought back to all the tales of werewolves that his mother taught him.   
  
He looked up at the bright stars and thought of something very smart Bill had said when he had stopped being angry. It was last summer, and Ron, being a small child, tried to remember things, but somehow seemed to slip out his other ear when he wasn't looking. But this, he knew, would stay in his mind (his very small mind, according to Percy) for a very very long time.   
  
"The stars are all attached to this long, invisible ribbon, Ron." Bill said, pointing up to the sky. "It goes in and out of the sky, in and out, in and out. It's something that no one can control, something even Great Witches and Wizards can't control."  
  
Ginny was now sitting at the window, her legs dangling on the roof. Ron sighed and reached out for her hand and pulled her next to him. She clung to his body, very afraid. She gazed down with huge eyes and she pulled her knees to her chest.. "Don't look down, Ginny." he said. "Up." Ginny had a hard time pulling her eyes away from the horrible ground, but somehow she did and looked up at the sky. The fireflies were still dancing, but they seemed unimportant now.  
  
"I'm scared." Ginny whispered.  
  
"It's not all dark anymore." Ron said.  
  
"I'm scared of falling."   
  
"It's better to be scared together, then brave alone." said Ron, holding his sister closer. "That's what Charlie said."  
  
"Ron?" Ginny said, looking up at him.   
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm not scared anymore."   
  
"That's good."   
  
Ginny was asleep within a few minutes and just as Ron was about to push her back through the window and into their room, two fireflies flew into his jar and lit up the jellybeans. Ron smiled and thrust the jar and its contents as far as it would go. He didn't hear them land, but just as he pushed Ginny back into the room and she landed with a thud, he saw two fireflies shine their lights somewhere far away. He yawned and fell into the room as well. Finding it quite comfortable on the floor, he rested his head against Ginny and fell asleep, not really caring about anything more then losing his jellybeans.  
  
---  
  
The Hospital Wing of Hogwart's was empty, except for Ginny Weasley. She sat up in her bed, ointment smeared over her face and tears running over her face. It was her fault that Harry and Ron had nearly died trying to save her. She'd just felt so lonely, now that Ron had friends. He had two friends! One of them was the smartest witch in Hogwart's and the other was the infamous Harry Potter. She couldn't even begin to compete with them. She was jealous, very jealous of both of them. When she was younger, she and Ron had been inseparable, absolutely inseparable. They weren't as close as Fred and George who had been together since the time they were born. Ron and Ginny, it was always the way things were. Ron and Ginny were "Mummy's babies." Ron and Ginny were the youngest, the ones always creating mischief for their older siblings to be blamed for.   
  
But now, it wasn't Ron and Ginny.  
  
It was Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ginny felt sad sitting in her big brother's shadow, but when she met Tom Riddle through the diary, it felt so wonderful to have someone that would listen. Even if she knew it was wrong at the time, she wouldn't have stopped. Ginny and Tom was the way it was for a while. Ron was so preoccupied, he probably didn't care about her anymore. Which is why she was sitting here, because she was stupid and forgotten.   
  
"Ginny." Ron said, appearing at the foot of the bed, a shiny cloak in his hand.  
  
"What's that?" Ginny said, pointing.  
  
"It's Harry's." Ron said, laying it down over her bed. He walked around to the chair next to her bed and sat next to her. "I just wanted to check up on you. It can get lonely in here. I imagine it can be scary too, with all these petrified people laying around." he shivered.  
  
"Yeah." Ginny said, looking away.   
  
"Hey, Ginny." Ron said. "Are you okay?"   
  
"I'm fine, Ron." she said, almost sadly. "You should get to bed."   
  
"You had me worried, Ginny." Ron pressed. "Knowing that Tom Riddle had taken you into the Chamber. I was afraid I would never see you again. Everyone was worried about you. Percy wouldn't stop pacing and Fred and George wouldn't pull one prank."   
  
"I know."   
  
"I felt really bad." Ron said. "It's like I've let you down. I'm sorry, Ginny."   
  
"You didn't let me down." Ginny said. "More like I've ruined it for myself. I've got a reputation now, you know. I am The Girl that was in love with You-Know-Who. I hate myself. How could I've been so stupid?"   
  
"No." Ron said, smiling. "You're not stupid, Ginny. Everyone makes mistakes, some bigger then others. But, you know, if you ever feel bad about mistakes, you should talk to me. I make a load of them every day. You can even ask Hermione, if you want. She likes to point them out."   
  
"Yeah." Ginny said softly.   
  
"What's wrong?" Ron said, tugging at her red hair. "Come on, tell me."   
  
"I'm scared." she said. "I'm terrified, actually."   
  
"You-Know-Who is gone, Ginny. He'll never come back to hurt you ever again. You don't have to be scared of him. Dumbledore will protect us." Ron assured her.  
  
"I'm not afraid of Tom." she said. "I'm afraid of being left behind."   
  
"Left behind ... ?"   
  
"You've got friends, Ron! You've got Harry and Hermione and Neville and Dean and Seamus. I've no one. I used to be your best friend, your only friend. And then, you went off to school and met all sorts of people. People that are smarter, better, richer then me. How can I compete with that?" Ginny said, tears coming into her eyes.  
  
Ron looked shocked for a minute and then smiled. "You don't have to compete with my friends." he said. "You've already won, Ginny. Because, no matter how smart Hermione gets or how brave Harry becomes, they'll never be my little sister. They'll never be Ginny. I may be getting new friends, but Ginny, you'll always be my little sister. There's no Harry Potter or Hermione or Dean that's going to change that."   
  
Ginny threw her arms around Ron's neck and sobbed into his shoulder as he held her back, smiling, almost laughing.   
  
"I love you, Ron." she said through her tears.   
  
"Love you too, Ginny." he said, pulling her away and smiling. "I think I've got to get back now, who knows when Filch will come roaming."   
  
"Ron." she caught his hand. "Could you do one more thing for me?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"Would you sit with me, just until I fall asleep, and then you can go." she said, looking up to him.   
  
Ron sighed and sank back into his chair. Ginny lay back down, feeling resolved. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, wanting Ron to go back soon, so he wouldn't get caught. But even after what seemed like hours, and when she was truly falling asleep, he stayed by her. He sat by the waning candle, munching on Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. And even when sleep truly did take her, she could still hear his loud crunching just as she drifted away. Maybe that was the wonder of her brother, the fact that at first, he came on as an insensitive, tall jerk, but in reality, he would do anything for anyone he cared for. She woke up around noon the next day, and Ron was gone, having gone off to class. When Harry and Ron came to visit her the next day, Ron's eyes were bloodshot from sleeplessness and he shared a kind look with her. Her brother was so strange in so many ways, but maybe that's what she loved about him.  
  
---  
  
"I just realized it, Harry." Hermione said quietly through her steady stream of tears. "I love him. But now, he's dead and there's nothing I can do. There's nothing."   
  
Harry put his hand on hers and smiled. "Viktor was a good man, Hermione."  
  
Ron, however, didn't feel a lot of sympathy for the dead Viktor Krum. Instead, he felt sort of happy the bloke was gone, dead, over with. But, hearing Hermione say that she actually, well, loved him, blew his mind. He sat, looking at her sob into a tattered tissue. She let out a large sob and Harry embraced her as she cried even harder. Harry gave him one of his looks, one of his looks that said Ron-Weasley-you'd-better-comfort-her-you-stupid-prat. But to tell the truth, the absolute honest to goodness truth, he didn't want to comfort her. Viktor never really loved Hermione, he only saw her as another groupie that wrote him idle fan mail. Hermione was the girl of his dreams, and to hear her spill her heart over this dead Bulgarian and be so crushed at his passing tore him up in side. Ron stood up and simply walked out of the Dormitory, out of the school and straight to the Quidditch Pitch.   
  
"Crummy Viktor. I'm glad he's dead. He probably deserved to die." Ron mumbled to himself as he sat himself down in the empty bleachers. "Stupid Bulgarians. I hate them all. I hate Bulgarians. I hate their stupid accent and their Quidditch team and their disgusting Bulgarian food."  
  
"So, what kind of food do they serve in Bulgaria?" Ginny asked, standing a few feet away from where Ron was sitting.   
  
"Get away, Ginny!" Ron said, turning his head. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now. Go find Hermione and comfort her or something."   
  
"From the look in your eyes, Big Brother, it looks like you'd be the one to need comforting." she said, walking over and sitting beside him. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"  
  
"Everything's wrong." Ron muttered, still looking away from her.  
  
"I don't suppose you could be a little more specific?" Ginny pressed. "Please?"   
  
Ron didn't respond.  
  
"Maybe Hermione is just acting out of greif. Viktor was her friend too, you know. A lot has been going on since we started Hogwart's, Ron. I think we've carried a large burden within all of ourselves for too long. We've all learned to value life, not just ours, but the lives of all of whom we come in contact with." she paused. "I know you don't mean you're glad that Viktor is dead. You're sad too, Ron. You practically worshipped him before he fell for Hermione. In a way, he was your friend too. He was a soldier, Ron. He was a man that fought for honor in this world with none. I suppose that's what we all are. I get so scared sometimes, with you always withdrawing, like Harry used to. I'm afraid I'll lose you."   
  
"What if Hermione wasn't acting out of greif?" Ron said, his voice cracking. "What if she really did love him? God, I was going to propose to her tonight."   
  
Ginny took her gloved hand and turned Ron's face towards her. She smiled tenderly when she saw the tears that ran down his face. "Then, Ron Weasley, she has missed out on the most incredible man I've ever known. And frankly, if she's stupid enough to take a great spirit like you for granted, then she's not the person I thought she was."   
  
"I'm not as incredible as Harry Potter. I'm a sidekick, no one knows who I am. No one cares. I'm just the red headed nuisance to Harry Potter."  
  
"You're right." Ginny said. "You're not Harry Potter. You never will be. Not many towns will rejoice at the sound of your name, they're more likely to laugh. But, I know who you are, Ron. I know exactly who you are. Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and I, we all know who you are and I think we're all grateful that you are who you are. The world might renounce Harry Potter as their hero, but you're mine. You've always been since the day I was born."   
  
Ron cracked a smile and swung his arm around his little sister. "Time goes by so fast. I don't remember you being so mature and wise."   
  
"You should never underestimate a Weasley." she said, standing up and starting to walk away. "You, of all people should know that."  
  
Long after Ginny had gone, Ron still sat in the stands, watching Hufflepuff practice for their next game against Ravenclaw. He really did love Hermione, with all of his heart. He would give her anything she wanted, if she'd just ask. He'd give his life for her happiness, and he was prepared to in the blink of an eye. But, talking with Ginny made him realize something. Hermione may not always be his to hold or care for or love, but Ginny would always be around. The same blood ran through their veins, but strangely enough, the same heart did not beat within their chests. Ginny had the heart of a dreamer, of a lover, of a hope stricken child. And he, he had the heart of a fighter, never good with emotions, but always willing to take a crack at it. He stood up and sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. There was a war that was on the brink of occurring, there were killings and evil fires that were rekindled. He would worry about his love life after the war, after everyone was safe.  
  
After all, he had plenty of time to see the world and make his judgments.  
  
---  
  
The War went on for three years, people always dying, waking up on the battlefield, another man's dead body draped over your own. Hermione was scared out of her mind of pain and dying, always wringing her thin hands nervously right before a battle. Harry was scared beyond anyone's ability to understand of losing one of his friends. It was a very real fear that struck every one of them right in the heart. All of Ron's siblings had been separated from him, fighting off in far away lands since the Second Year of War. All of them, with the exception of Ginny. The wondered at night together, crying over their missing family. Their mother, despite her spunk was kept in a safe house by the demanding of Bill. He had caused quite an uproar as his hands bled. Ginny and Ron knew nothing of their brothers, whether or not they were okay, if they were even alive. They did not even know whose side they were on. Ron was afraid that out of all of the black hooded men he had killed, one of them might be Percy.   
  
"Hurry! We've got to get out!" Harry yelled back to them.   
  
They were in the very lair of Voldemort. It was a long battle between Harry and Voldemort, but in the end, Harry was victorious, leaving Tom Riddle's bleeding corpse among the rubble. Ron had covered his sister's young eyes and rushed her out. Neville had Hermione hoisted up onto his already injured shoulder. She had been knocked out early, and it would probably be quicker to leave her to die, but none of them would hear of it. Luna was limping along the walls, her leg dripping blood as Harry ran ahead of them all, refusing to look back. The castle crumbled around them, their beloved Hogwart's castle that had been captured.   
  
"Come on!" Neville yelled to Ron and Ginny.   
  
Just as he said those words, the castle gave a great quake and more of the old bricks fell into the corridor from the ceiling. Ron jerked the traumatized Ginny back with all his strength and watched the rock create an impossible wall between the rest of his friends. He got up from the flooding ground and helped Ginny up, her red hair wet and stringy.   
  
"Ron! Are you alright?" he heard Harry yell.   
  
"We're fine, just go! We'll find another way out!" Ron yelled back.   
  
"There is no other way, Idiot!" Luna screamed. "We're all going to die!"  
  
"Shut your mouth, stupid girl!" Ginny yelled. "We'll find a way, just go!"   
  
"Are you sure?" Neville yelled.   
  
"Go!" Ron yelled, turning down the next flooded corridor, dragging Ginny along.  
  
They trudged along, shoes flooded with water and hearts heavy with despair of losing their friends. Luna was right, there was no other way out. They were in the dungeon, they were heading to their death by drowning. They had both known it when they told them to go. Both would rather die then see their friends die as well. But, for some reason, they still ran frantically, looking for somewhere to escape, an egress, a door, for God's sake! They turned a sharp corner and saw a dead end at the end of the short hall. Ginny gave a cry of despair as Ron dropped her hand. A man, as soaking wet as they were turned the corner with a look of menace in his eyes. He smiled the same smile his son would have if he hadn't died earlier in the war. The father of Draco seemed more menacing now, more then ever.  
  
"You're going to die, you rats." he said as an iron gate descended from the ceiling between himself and the two Weasley's. "Your parents should have died a long time ago, now you must pay their debt."   
  
"You bastard!" Ginny screamed. "You disgusting little snake! Let us out! Let us out!"   
  
"Idiot girl." he said, his bloodshot eyes widening with a wild content. "You shouldn't plea for your life. It is worthless. You will die here. Your families are dead, and your friends. They all died. They suffered a long painful death and it is all your fault. It is only fit you should suffer their fate."   
  
"That's not true!" Ron screamed. "They're alive!"   
  
"The top of the castle is on fire, the Great Hall is in ashes. Everyone is dead." he spat. "Everyone is dead. It is all because of you."   
  
"No!" Ginny shrieked, throwing herself against the gate. "Let us out!"   
  
"Let them out." Draco said, stepping from the shadows." There is still way out of this place. Haven't enough died because of this war? Let them out, Father."   
  
His father raised his eyebrows at his son and then smirked. "As you wish, Draco." He reached into his pocket and gave him the key and started to walk away, robe sloshing in the water.   
  
"Why are you helping us?" Ginny demanded as he fumbled with the lock.  
  
"Enough have died. It's too much for one to bear, even one as horrible as me." he said. "Your friends and families are --"  
  
He stopped dead, his eyes widened with a crazy sort of surprise and pain and he gripped the keys in his hand so tightly his fingers turned white. Ron reached for his hand through the gate. "Malfoy? Malfoy, hurry up you ferret! What's the matter with you?" Malfoy opened his mouth and dark red blood dripped from it as his body went limp and he landed face first in the murky water. Ginny screamed clutched Ron, who just stared in disbelief at the handle of a dagger sticking out from the man's back. His father smiled at them.  
  
"I'll just take this key." he said, taking it out of the lock and putting it into his pocket. "And I might need this later." he reached down to grab the handle of the dagger and yanked it out of his son. Seeing the blood, he gave a disgusted smirk and wiped the blade on the robes of his dead son.  
  
"You bastard." Ron whispered.   
  
"But a living bastard I remain." he said, turning and walking away.   
  
"Oh, God." Ginny cried, sinking to her knees. "We're going to die, Ron! We're going to die!"   
  
Ron did nothing to comfort his sister, just leaned his head on the iron gate. "Nonsense, Ginny. We're not going to die."   
  
"Yes, we are!" she screamed.   
  
"Perk up, Ginny.." Ron smiled. "The Aurors will be here soon. Harry and the others will come for us. All we have to do is not lose our heads, understand?"   
  
Ginny nodded mutely, but rested her head on her knees and wept.   
  
Hours passed and no one came to rescue them. Ron had his arms around Ginny as he sat in the foot deep water. He had her head turned away from Malfoy's dead body. No one was going to come for them. This was where they were going to die, here, in this dungeon with a corpse. He would never know if his family was okay, if Hermione had lived, if they had made it out in time. He closed his eyes and let the tears slip from his eyes. Tears of despair, tears of death, tears of hopelessness. There was so much he wanted to do in life, marry Hermione, have children, and grow old. He wanted to see his fiftieth birthday. He wanted to see Ginny fall in love with a wonderful man. But most of all, he just wanted to live. He clutched Ginny against his chest as she awoke. She didn't say anything, just lay there.   
  
"I'm not going to lie to you, Ginny." Ron said. "I want to live. I want you to live. But, I don't think we're going to live, little sister. I'm sorry. I've let you down."   
  
"No." she whispered. "You could never let me down, Ron."  
  
The castle gave a great quake and Ginny lifted her head from Ron's chest. The rocks crumbled at the end of the hallway and were slowly coming towards them. Ginny screamed and started to get up, but Ron held her down. "No, Ginny. Let it come. Just let it come." Ginny clung to her brother and sobbed as the rocks crashed into the water and the castle shook. Ron spun around and pushed Ginny against the wall. He saw her fear and confusion as he threw his body over her, to protect her. Just before the rocks fell on them, Ron saw the look of pure gratitude on his sister's face and he felt that even if he were to die at that second, his life had had some purpose, some meaning, and some worth.   
  
And that's all one can really ask for.   
  
---  
  
Everything hurt. From her eyelids right down to her toenails, everything felt bruised and horrible. She heard only silence and for a second, she thought she had died and she was wherever people go when they die. She forced her tired eyelids open and saw a balloon. "Get well soon, Ginny. We love you." she read softly. Slowly, she sat up in the empty hospital room and saw that she was in St. Mungo's. Relief flooded her that she was living and even her bruised fingertips tingled with excitement. She looked outside the window and saw that the sun was slowly setting. "I'm alive. I'm alive. I made it through the war. I am alive." she repeated to herself. She sighed and started to read a book that Hermione must had left on her bedside table.   
  
"Hogwarts, a History." she said softly, turning to page one.   
  
When she opened the cover, there was a photo taped into it. A photo of Dumbledore's Army, all of its proud members waved at her. Ginny smiled and ran her hand over it, watching Fred and George try several poses before she closed the book on them. Suddenly, she remembered Ron. Tears burst from her eyes when she remembered that he had thrown his body over hers to protect her from the falling rocks. She remembered how lucky she was to be alive, and by the looks of the room, had probably lived by pure luck. But, if she had just made it, barely slipped by, then Ron was surely --   
  
"Nurse!" Ginny screamed. "Nurse!"   
  
"What is it?" a young woman said, opening the door, looking flustered.   
  
"My brother, Ron." Ginny cried desperately. "Where is he? Please, tell me he's alright."   
  
"He is in the room across the hall." she said slowly. "Oh, Miss Weasley, they're not sure he will make it. He's lost so much blood."   
  
"Take me to him." Ginny insisted, sitting up again, but this time feeling a sharp pain in her body.  
  
"Take it easy, Miss Weasley." the Nurse said, rushing over to her. "You're very hurt as well. Let me help you into a wheel chair."   
  
The Nurse wheeled Ginny across the hall. Ron's room had no lovely wallpaper, no balloons, no hope left in its walls. It only had Ron, laying in a square bed, looking dead and defeated. Ginny wheeled herself over to her brother's side and saw that a bandage had been strapped around his head and over his eyes. Ginny let out a sob. She had done this! He had sheltered her with his body! This was her fault! If her brother died, it was her fault. She would blame herself forever if he died. She wouldn't ever forgive herself, always walking with the burden of her brother's death. Ginny rested her hand on her brother's bed and sobbed quietly.   
  
"I ask too much of you, big brother." she whispered, placing her hand on his. "But please, let me ask one more thing. Please, stay with me. Don't let go of your life, yet. You can't die. You can't leave me here alone. Harry and Hermione and our brothers are fine and all, but I love you the most, Ron. Don't leave me here alone. I'm not ready to let you go. I'm too young. You can't die, not now."  
  
She listened, hoping that maybe he would respond.   
  
"I love you, big brother." she whispered. "Do you remember what you told me? That you just wanted to live? I'd do anything if I could trade places with you, to be the one dying instead of the one that's bruised."   
  
A nurse ran by the closed door, her shoes clicking on the floor.   
  
"Do you remember when we were very small, Ron?" Ginny whispered. "It was dark in the room. I wanted fireflies to make it brighter. And you, you just climbed right up on the roof and you tried to catch some with jellybeans. Do you remember that?" she laughed slightly. "Mum was always blaming Fred or George or Percy for our little adventures. Whenever we did something bad, it always seemed like it was their fault. We were the dynamic duo. Ron and Ginny. We couldn't be separated, we even shared a bed until Bill moved away."  
  
Silence filled her ears, along with the darkness of the set sun.  
  
"It is nighttime, Ron. I don't suppose I am afraid of the dark anymore, like I was when I was a child. I'm scared to the core of losing you, though. I'm so terrified, Ron. Please, just don't die. Please. Please."   
  
Ginny cried herself to sleep that night, clinging loosely to her brother's hand. But, just before the sun rose and Hermione and Harry came to visit Ron, Ron squeezed his sister's hand ever so slightly back.   
  
He had been listening.  
  
Throughout the day, the Healers ran several tests and gave him blood through a tube. The Nurse insisted they did not move Ginny. If her brother died that day, at least she would be by his side. But, they had to move her eventually to see if they could save her legs. She may not walk again, they said. She may never walk again. They didn't tell her this, for she was too shattered with greif at her dying brother. The nurse wheeled her out of the room and into the spell caster's room. For hours, they inflicted every charm, every potion, every procedure that might help her legs, help her walk again. When they were finished, they lay her on the table to sleep as the Healer went out to talk to Molly.   
  
"Hermione." Molly cried when she walked out of the room. "How is she? Will she walk again?"   
  
"Yes." Hermione smiled. "But, she will limp forever. As she gets older, her knees will give her some problem and she'll probably have to be put into a wheelchair. But, for now, she can walk."  
  
"Oh, thank God!" Molly sobbed, embracing Hermione.   
  
"It'll take some physical therapy and getting used to, but she will walk again, Mrs. Weasley. She will walk again." Hermione said softly.   
  
"But what about Ron?" Bill demanded, standing up. "What about him?"   
  
"They thought he'd die." Hermione said, pulling away from Molly. "They thought he'd die last night, actually. But, I don't know. Some miracle, some cause made him stay alive. He was so close to death, they almost rolled the white sheet over his head, but, somehow, he pulled through. But, he is blind. He will be blind for the rest of his life."   
  
"So this is how it is." Arthur said, standing up. "My children, my two youngest children, one blind and one limping for the rest of her life."  
  
"But they are all alive." Molly said, taking his hand. "And for that we should be thankful."   
  
They kept Ron and Ginny in the same room. Ron took a lot of time to recover from his injuries, but always had the white bandage across his eyes. Ginny went through physical therapy with her Healer, Hermione Granger. She felt so weak, her legs so unstable. Every day, Hermione would assure her that she would walk one day if she tried. But, Ginny would not leave her wheelchair. "Not while my brother is limited to his box of a bed." she cried. "I will not walk until he can see again." Ginny would sit by the window most of the time, staring out at London, at the muggles who could not see her. They did not know her pain, her story. At times, she hated them more then anything. And then, there were times when she would have done anything to be them. Unaware of the dangers and wars and evils that had been done to her world.  
  
Ginny leaned her head against the window and thought of all she had been through. A great war, a Dark Lord, the loss of her dignity. She heard Ron sit up in his bed. She heard him slide into the wheelchair that was beside his bed. The Nurse walked over and wheeled him over to the window, beside Ginny and together they sat. Ron reached over and took her hand. She sobbed and looked away from her brother.  
  
"You should be walking around by now, Ginny." he said. "Why are you still in that damned wheelchair?"   
  
"It's not right." Ginny whispered. "It's not right that I should be able to see the sunset and the clouds and family and friends when you cannot! It's not right that I can limp when you have to stay in a damned wheel chair!"  
  
"I can walk when I am strong again, Ginny." Ron sighed. "And I think even now, with this stupid bandage over my eyes, I can see much better then you."   
  
"Are you crazy, Ron?" Ginny said angrily. "You're blind."   
  
"Take off my bandage, Ginny." Ron said. "Go on, take it off. Prove me wrong."   
  
Ginny reached behind her brother's head and loosened the knot. Very slowly, she eased the bandage off of his eyes. She caught her breath when she saw his beautiful blue eyes staring at her. Placing the bandage on the windowsill, she turned from him. "Turn my head towards the window." he said.  
  
Slowly, she tilted his head towards the window.  
  
He grinned hugely, eyes darting around, as if taking in all.   
  
"What do you see?" she asked.   
  
"I see a world, a wonderful world." he said, tears coming down his eyes. "I see a world where there is no Voldemort. I see a world where people can raise children and tell stories of a Great War that happened. I see a world where leaves can fall and tears are nothing but rain. And do you know why I see it, Ginny? Do you know why?"   
  
"Why?" Ginny asked, still looking down.   
  
He took his hand and tilted her head upwards. "Because we've done it. We've created this world. We've fought for it and we've won. That's why I see it. I don't need my eyes to tell me that, Ginny Weasley. I can feel it in every bone in my body. It's a world where people fall in love."   
  
"Who will love a cripple and a blind man?" Ginny sobbed.   
  
"There are no cripples or blind men." Ron said. "Only people that lose hope. And that, Ginny Weasley, may be the worst disability of all." 


	10. Ribbons

Molly loved holidays. She loved Christmas more then ever, though, because all of her family came back home and had a big meal. Her children were all grown up, with their own children. She felt older as the days wore on, her very bones felt tired as she wandered through her house. Compulsively, she kept everything in her children's rooms clean. She laundered all of their clothes, even though she knew that they could not wear them anymore. Every few months, she would paint their rooms again. She did all of this by hand, because she wanted it to take longer. She wanted to be in her children's rooms. She wanted to feel important again, needed. Arthur was busy at the Ministry, always working, sometimes not coming home for dinner. Molly felt so sad, because she hated to eat alone, so much that she would stop eating if no one was there to eat with her. Her body, plump from hearty celebration and pregnancies, had grown thin and her clothes sagged on her body. Sometimes, she felt lonely and thought to complain, but then she thought of the holidays to come, straightened her shoulders and found something to do. Her life was a simple one without her children at home, and somehow, less fulfilling.  
  
Arthur was always tired with his work. She knew there wasn't anything she could do, but still, she felt like she should do something. When he came home, they barely talked anymore, because Arthur ate and then buried his nose in a book and usually fell asleep on their couch. Molly sometimes wished to drag him up the stairs to their bed, but decided to let him sleep. But when she trudged up those worn, wooden stairs at night and looked down at her snoring husband, she couldn't help but feel lonely. And when she crept into bed at night, her dreams were filled with her children.   
  
"I'm a sad song." she sighed to The Cat. (The Cat was Crookshanks, who had died when Hermione was there on vacation and had decided to haunt the house). "And I can't even say I'm old and fat! Isn't it a pity. Christmas will be here soon, though. The days seem terribly long."  
  
"Who are you talking to, Molly?" Arthur asked, coming into the room.  
  
"The Cat." Molly replied softly, not looking at him.   
  
"Oh." Arthur said, blinking. Sometimes he worried about his wife's sanity. "You could always call Ginny if you want to talk to a living being. Or, you could always talk to me. The Cat isn't much of a conversationalist, is he now?"  
  
"How many days until Christmas?" Molly asked, disregarding him.   
  
"Three-hundred and six." Arthur sighed. "It's not particularly soon, but sooner then it was yesterday, I suppose."   
  
Molly smiled. "Charlie's birthday is in sixteen days. What do you think he would like for his birthday?"  
  
Arthur chuckled. "Oh, he might be a little old for birthday presents. Maybe you could just send him a letter or a card. He'll like it, I'm sure."   
  
"I would like a present on my birthday." Molly said looking at him. "The Healer says there is nothing wrong with me, so I think you can stop looking at me like I'm crazy and stop talking to me like I'm a mental patient."   
  
"Sorry, sorry." Arthur said, walking out of the room. "I've work to do anyway."  
  
Arthur walked into the living room and sat on the couch. His wife really was losing her mind, slowly, but surely. He knew what was causing it, too. Their children. Yes, their children were causing his wife such heartache, although they once gave her so much joy and purpose. They hadn't written one letter, and when Ginny called, she called only because she felt it was her duty and her words sounded annoyed to the point of rudeness. His wife would care for their rooms like they still lived in the house and refused to throw anything out. Sometimes, she would just stare forlornly at their pictures on the wall. And sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, she would shrink down and cry, long, lost sobs. He never comforted her, because once, when he tried to, she wouldn't speak to him for days and refused to eat. She was terribly thin, and he missed her. It was Christmas that brought back his wife. Just Christmas. He missed her when she was gone, but it was not something he could control. Which is also why he kept count of the days until Christmas, because his children would bring her back to him for a few days while they stayed and then she would go again, as soon as she had come.   
  
"Do we have any gingerbread cookies?" she said softly, coming into the room. "Ron used to love gingerbread cookies. He might come and visit. I can feel it in my bones. We should have gingerbread cookies."  
  
"We don't have any gingerbread cookies." Arthur said gently. "You should bake some. I would like some gingerbread cookies if Ron doesn't visit."   
  
"No, no." Molly said quietly. "I'll bake them around Christmas. He will come at Christmas, won't he Arthur? All of them will come at Christmas time. I love Christmas, Arthur."  
  
"So do I, Molly." Arthur said, smiling. "I love it very much."   
  
Their days passed like this. Arthur always looked upon his wife with tender regret and wished she would come back to him a little more often. He owed her so much, and he had to rely on his children to give her joy that he alone could not. He knew that she loved him as much as he loved her, if not more. But sometimes, it was so hard to see her, so thin and feeble, always looking for something that was not there to find. Nothing could save her if the children didn't come. Arthur remembered last year, when he had to go to every single one of their houses and threaten their inheritance if they didn't come willingly. In the end, they had all showed up, a little bitter, but nonetheless, there. Of course, Molly loved for them all to get together for Christmas because she knew that all of them lived very far apart and it was good for them to get together.   
  
Arthur sighed. Bill, Percy, Charlie and Harry Potter all worked in the Ministry. Bill was the treasurer and Percy was very important (although Arthur wasn't quite sure what he did). Charlie was the Care of Magical Creatures regulator and Harry Potter was the Top Auror in the Ministry. Arthur of course, was the Minister of Magic. He saw his children in the lunch room all of the time, and he knew they saw him, but they never said anything to him. Ginny was a housewife, working on writing a cookbook. Hermione was the Nurse at Hogwart's. She had earned herself a new nickname by the students for her strictness of rules: Madame Horny Toad Weasel. Ron was the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher and he was very good at it. And Minerva McGonagall was the Headmaster after the death of Dumbledore a few years earlier.  
  
The months did not fly by, nor did they go slower then they should have. They just went, and sometimes, Molly would talk to Arthur, short, snippets of a conversation. So, they soon reached November, which was very close to Christmas. After a certain conversation, Arthur thought it would be good for the both of them to get out of the house for a while. So, he told Molly that the house was being tented for termites and they were to stay at the Leaky Cauldron. Molly nodded and said it was sad that they could not take The Cat (she was awfully fond of that dead thing). So, Arthur packed her a suitcase and he packed himself one as well and they took the four o'clock train to Diagon Alley.   
  
"I've not been around people for a long time." Molly said on the train.  
  
"What about me?" Arthur asked her.   
  
"You don't count." she said, smiling. "You know me."   
  
"Yes, I suppose I do know you." he had said.   
  
Arthur had chosen the Leaky Cauldron because he knew that Harry, Percy, Bill and Charlie had dinner there on occasion. Arthur thought it would be nice for his wife to do a little bit of shopping and then see some of her children before Christmas. Arthur wanted to make sure they were going to make it to Christmas dinner. Their room wasn't very big, but it was the nicest room that they had (Arthur was the Minister of Magic, after all) and it suited Molly fine. He had offered to take her shopping, but she had said that she wanted to go alone and that he should go and find her a book.   
  
"A nice book." she said. "It must be thick. I want it to be about something very nice. Could you buy me a book like that?"   
  
"Yes." Arthur nodded, putting a sack of money in her purse. "I will buy you a very nice book."  
  
"Not two books." she said. "That just spoils the fun."   
  
"Of course not." he smiled as she started to walk away. "I promise."  
  
She disappeared into the crowd and he found himself feeling very happy that she was actually going to do something that did not involve his children. He went to the muggle bookstore just outside the Leaky Cauldron and bought her Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. It was rather thick and it had some pictures in it. He bought a ribbon and tied it around the book, deciding that Molly could use it as a bookmark. He went back into the Leaky Cauldron and back into Diagon Alley to find his wife and found her at the entrance with a small box in her hands. She smiled at him and handed him the box.  
  
"We can hang it on the Christmas tree." she said. "I think the children will like it."  
  
The ornament was rather small, but it was glass. Hand blown glass. It was of a young woman, sitting on a chair with her husband standing over her. Around them were several little children, eight children. The detail was exquisite, every single finger was crafted, every single facial expression, every single stitch on the tiny sweaters. Arthur smiled at her and she took it into her thin hands. He handed her the book and she smiled at it approvingly. They both walked into the Leaky Cauldron, Arthur holding an empty box filled with tissue paper. In the corner, he saw that his sons were talking over something. He turned to his wife and told her to go up the stairs and wait in their room. He didn't want them to reject going to Christmas dinner with her there. He could only imagine the hurt that would go through her eyes.   
  
"You can go and read your book. Won't that be grand?" he asked her, suddenly aware that his sons had spotted them and were staring.   
  
"It's very nice" she said, looking at it. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I have something to take care of." Arthur said.   
  
"Are you going to go to work again?" she asked quietly.   
  
"No." he said. "I'll meet you up there in a little while, alright?"   
  
"I suppose it is okay." she said, licking her lips and starting up the stairs.   
  
Arthur watched her walk up. It ate away at him to see her so weak, so unlike the woman that he had married. But then, there was nothing he could do about it. This was one of the things that he had to put in the hands of his children. He walked over to them and asked if he could have a seat. Charlie nodded mutely and he sat down. The table was silent, and he felt the tension. Of course he was mad at his children! He loved them all the same, but he was just very upset. He knew from their faces that they weren't planning to come to Christmas dinner. They wouldn't do it for him, and maybe not even for their mother. He sighed.   
  
"I know it's not in your plans this year to come to Christmas Dinner." said Arthur quietly. "But if you won't do it for me, won't you do it for your mother?"  
  
"We have a new house." Percy said. "We would like to spend it in our new house. It's very sentimental, I've worked for years to buy it."   
  
"It's such a hassle to get all of the children's clothes packed and them into a train and go to The Burrow." Harry said. "Ginny is so touchy, she's pregnant again. I don't think I should stress her to travel."  
  
"A new shipment of dragon eggs is due in Rome. I was planning to spend Christmas in Rome with my wife and children. Christmas in Rome is something that we've always wanted to do." Charlie said, staring at the table.   
  
"I don't have time." Bill said. "I'm a single father, Dad. Elise and I have plans to go over to visit Fleur's mother and father. They still grieve for her, even though it's been six years since she died giving birth."  
  
Arthur was silent. They all had legible excuses, they were all perfectly sensible. "Your mother would really like it if you came." he said, almost desperately. "She's been waiting for this all year. Won't you please consider it?"   
  
"We don't have time, Dad." Percy said. "You of all people should realize that."   
  
If only he could tell them how their mother cried at night, cleaned their rooms and was losing her mind slowly! But, he knew that Molly didn't want them to come to her because they felt obliged to. He knew that she didn't want to be thought of as weak and feeble and weepy. She wanted to be remembered by her children as a strong, happy soul. He felt the pit of anger in his stomach and knew that their decision was final. Fred, George and Ron probably had some royal excuse also. He had seen the look of sheer greif in his wife's eyes before, when their first daughter had died, and he knew, that he never wanted to see it again. He sighed and stood up, suddenly realizing that they were indeed grown up and that he and Molly were just old people. Old people that were taken for granted, tossed aside. He stood up and turned his back, and walked away without saying goodbye.   
  
In the room, Molly was sitting on the edge of the bed, fingering the ornament in her hands. "So, what did they say?"   
  
"Who?" Arthur said, closing the door slowly.   
  
"Bill, Percy, Charlie and Harry." Molly said, laughing slightly. "I saw them. I knew you were going to go and talk to them."  
  
"They said that they were very sorry." Arthur said quietly, a knot in his throat as he looked at his wife. "But they cannot come to Christmas dinner. They said they will come next year."   
  
Molly's face clearly fell, although she tried to hide it. She looked down and away from Arthur. "It seems the only way to get them altogether would be for me to die and have a funeral. Would they even come to that? Would they even come to visit my grave?"  
  
"Molly, don't talk like that." Arthur said, walking over to her. "Come on, I'll get you some gingerbread cookies. You love gingerbread cookies, don't you?"   
  
"I'm not hungry." Molly said, standing up. "I just want to sleep. You can go and get something to eat, Arthur. I want to take a nap. Today has made me very tired."  
  
"Alright." Arthur said.   
  
He walked out of the room, not fully closing the door. He stood outside of the room for a few minutes. Finally, he looked through the crack of the door and saw his wife, huddled under the window, sitting on the cold ground, sobbing her heart out. Her tiny body shook and she hugged her knees, making her seem so much smaller. Arthur sighed and looked away. He shut the door quietly and leaned against the hallway wall. He ran his hands through his hair and sank down, sitting on the ground. There was nothing he could do, absolutely nothing, besides put a leash on all of his children and drag them back home. But, somehow, he thought, that wouldn't work very well. He was losing his wife, and his children were already lost to him. This was his life, and he feared that his wife might outlive him and she would be left all alone. He didn't want that for her, to die of a broken heart. Arthur had never, in his life, ever felt so helpless and vulnerable.   
  
"Dad?" A foot nudged him. "Dad, why are you on the floor?"   
  
Arthur looked up to see Charlie, hovering over him. "Your mother wanted to be alone. I just told her that all of you couldn't make it Christmas dinner."  
  
"Well, is she alright? I just came up to say hello." Charlie asked.   
  
Arthur stood up slowly. He pointed to the door. "Open the door slowly and see for yourself."   
  
Charlie opened the door slowly and shock filled his eyes. He made a move to walk into the room and comfort her, but Arthur grabbed his arm. "Don't. There is nothing anyone can do for her when she's like this."  
  
"It's happened before?" Charlie asked.  
  
Arthur nodded silently. "Your mother preferred that you didn't see her like this. Hermione is supposed to ask you about the anatomy of a certain bite that a student has later today. If you would be so kind as to tell her about your poor mother. But, don't tell anyone else. Are you going to come to come to Christmas Dinner now?"   
  
"I don't suppose I have a choice." Charlie said with a small smile. "It'll be a lot harder to convince those hardheaded brothers of mine to come to Christmas Dinner, but I'll do my best. As for Hermione, well, she's always been fond of Mum."   
  
"That's good." Arthur smiled.   
  
Charlie gave him a retreating smile as Arthur entered the room again. Molly was now sitting under the window, not bothering to hide the fact that she was crying. Arthur crossed the room slowly, the silence between them becoming louder and louder with every step he took. He slumped down beside her sighed deeply. "I don't want you to touch me." she said. Arthur said nothing at all, because at that moment there was a knock on the door. He called for them to come in and in stepped Hermione Granger, still in her Madame Horny Toad Weasel uniform. At the sight of Molly, she let out a cry, rushed to her and they held each other, both crying as hard as they could. Arthur stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed, to look out at the window while they sobbed.   
  
"I was just chopping onions." Molly was sobbing. "It was just onions!"   
  
"I know. I know." Hermione sobbed back. "I'll make sure Ron and Harry and Ginny find their way back home. I promise I'll do all that I can, even if I have to threaten my position at Hogwart's!"   
  
"It was just onions ..." Molly said, apparently oblivious to the fact that Hermione was saying something that concerned her children. "I'm not crying for any other reason!"  
  
Onions, thought Arthur. We don't even have any onions.  
  
---  
  
Hermione Weasley (aka: Madame Horny Toad Weasel) returned to Hogwart's within three hours of her miniature excursion to the Leaky Cauldron. When Ron had asked her what was wrong with her, she told him to get Harry and Ginny down to the school within the hour. He had replied that there was no way he could do that, and she had replied that if he wanted to keep her from ripping his stupid little head off he would do it, and he would it do it extremely fast. Hermione went into the Infirmary and dried her eyes, made her way up to The Headmaster's office and explained what was going on. McGonagall had rubbed her eyes and muttered something about the arrogance of the men and women these days. Ron had been called out of class to the Headmaster's office and that is where he now stood, looking very flustered.   
  
"Are they here yet?" Hermione asked him. "Well, are they?"  
  
"Harry is on his way -- on the train right now with Ginny." Ron said, his guide dog, coincidently named Dog nudging his feet. "Now, if you would just tell me what in bloody hell your problem is --"  
  
"Don't you curse in my face, you ignorant fool!" Hermione yelled.   
  
"What did I do now?" Ron yelled back. "I haven't done anything arrogant, annoying, stupid, disrespectful in the last twenty-six hours, four minutes and three seconds for you to be mad at me for!"   
  
"You are so daft." Hermione scoffed, turning away from her.  
  
"Don't turn your back on me! I can hear you because you're always so dramatic when it comes to expressing your emotions! You can't give me the cold shoulder without me knowing what I'm getting your cold shoulder for!" Ron yelled angrily in the direction of her voice. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry! I'm sorry for whatever it is I did and I promise I'll never, as long as I may live, do it again."  
  
"Can you believe him?" she asked McGonagall, who was looking quite amused while feeding Fawkes. "Four children and three teaching positions later and he's still as ignorant as he was before we got married!"   
  
The sound of the grinding, rising stairwell filled the room and all three of them turned their heads to see a very pregnant Ginny and Harry walking (Ginny was limping of course) into the office. McGonagall stopped feeding Fawkes and sat down at her desk, waiting for the next set of arguments.  
  
"What's this about?" Ginny asked Ron. "You had me scared, saying that it was an emergency and that your life was at stake if we didn't come."  
  
"It is at stake." Ron said, sighing. "Ask Hermione what this little party is about, because I was just told to get all of you here, or suffer the penalty of death."   
  
"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry asked her, taking the smallest step away from his angry wife.  
  
"This is about Christmas Dinner." Hermione said, straightening her spine.  
  
"Good God!" Ron cried, throwing his hands up.   
  
"You dragged me, a six month pregnant woman with twins, from my very comfortable feather bed onto a train with a bunch of sweaty teenagers to talk about Christmas Dinner?" Ginny yelled.  
  
"Yes, I did." Hermione said, the tone in her voice not humbling the slightest bit. "I understand that you and Harry do not plan to go to Mrs. Weasley's house for Christmas Dinner. And I simply must insist that you do go, no, I demand you to reconsider, no, to meet my demand."   
  
Harry widened his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny beat him to it. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have two small children at home, and two on the way? Do you know what it would mean if I had to pack all of their clothes, their toothbrushes, buy presents for all of my brothers and their children, of whom I don't even know their names of even if they exist? Do you realize how sentimental Christmas is for Harry and I to spend at our house? Hermione Weasley, have you lost your mind? I'm not going to Christmas Dinner there!"  
  
"You went last year." Hermione said, a tone of anger in her voice.  
  
"My father came to our house and threatened our inheritance! He threatened to give the burrow to the Malfoy family, of all people! He forced us to come: practically put a leash around our necks and dragged us out of the house!" Ginny said angrily. "Don't you tell me that I have to meet your insane demands. I am a mother and I have other things to do then visit my aging parents for three days!"   
  
"Hermione, they're busy." Ron said. "And come to think of it, so are we. You have that tutoring thing over Christmas vacation and I have the Triwizard Tournament Coaching in Bulgaria. I promised my team that I'd be there for them."   
  
"Please try to understand." Harry said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "There is always next year that we can go. By then, things may have settled down. This holiday season is a little hectic for us."   
  
"We have to get back." Ginny said. "I love you Hermione, but let's face it, we don't have time to go to Christmas Dinner."  
  
"How can you take your own mother for granted?" Hermione asked, tears forming in her eyes as her voice grew softer. "How can you just toss the thought of how much this may mean to her as if it were nothing? How can you just stand there and say no?"   
  
"We have things to do." Ginny said, smiling. "I love my mother, but my children need me at home."   
  
Ginny and Harry left the office, leaving Hermione standing there, feeling defeated and failed. She turned to Ron with her eyes glistening with tears that had not yet fallen. "Don't look at me like that." Ron said gently. "I can feel the tears in your eyes. You know that I have so many things to do. It's busy enough already. I promise you we'll go next year, Hermione."   
  
He started to walk out of the office when Hermione called out to him, "I will go. I'll go all by myself. I'll leave tomorrow, no today! I'll stay with your mother. You can come and get me at Christmas Dinner if you even plan to attend. If not, well, you'll know where to find me."   
  
"Hermione, don't you think this is a bit childish?" Ron sighed. "Headmaster is not going to let you walk out on the students who are injured and take care of my mother. Let's just forget this ever happened, okay?"  
  
"I will let her go." McGonagall said, speaking up at last. "The arrogance of Molly's children has bothered me greatly, so, I will let you go Madame Weasley. I will take care of the children in the infirmary, don't you worry, Ron. And, I think I might attend Christmas Dinner at Molly Weasley's house also. It has been a while since I've seen her."   
  
"I will never understand, women. Ever." He muttered loudly as he descended down the stairs.   
  
Hermione rubbed her eyes and went down the infirmary during the class change to pack her bags. She saw something in Molly's eyes when she visited her. Someone who was dying of a broken heart, of a broken mind, of a broken spirit. She had seen it in Neville's mother when she had died in St. Mungo's six years earlier. She had just kept asking for Neville. Neville. Neville. Hermione did not have the heart to tell her that Neville had been killed during the war, so she just told her that Neville was coming soon. Mrs. Longbottom died waiting for her son to come. By God, Hermione was not about to let Mrs. Weasley die the same death, waiting for her children, only wanting them for dinner and a few days visit. Hermione shivered, she was afraid of growing old. Growing old and being forgotten, only wanting her children to comfort her, becoming angry in the comfort of only her blind husband. Hermione took up her suitcase that was filled with a few sets of clothes, her pajamas and other things and started to walk to the entrance of Hogwart's.   
  
"Hermione, this is ridiculous!" Ron yelled, being pulled by his dog. He caught her arm.   
  
"You're ridiculous, Ron!" Hermione said, increasing her pace, charging through the oncoming students during the class change.  
  
"Will you just come back? We can talk this over!" Ron said. "My mother is a little on the loony side, Hermione. What'll she know if we skip one Christmas? What will she care?"   
  
Hermione stopped in her tracks and slammed her suitcase as hard as she could on the ground. The entire rush of students stopped and the hall grew quiet with a deathly silence. "If you want to take your Triwizard Team to Bulgaria, fine! I hope you meet up with Viktor Krum! If you want to stay here during the Holiday Break and eat School Food, fine! But, you will not stand here and tell me that all your mother did for you was nothing! That's nothing but lies! So, you can either come and get me and have Christmas Dinner with her and the rest of your siblings, or you are going the rest of your life regretting it!"  
  
"Okay, fine!" Ron yelled just as loudly. "You can go! I have things to do, Hermione, besides listening to you yell at me about how under appreciative I am!"   
  
Hermione grabbed her suitcase and angrily pushed through the herd of stopped students. The Great Hall door opened and she rushed through it, off to the Hogwart's Express. She'd given it her best shot, but it was no use. Her best friends wouldn't listen to her, wouldn't even consider it. She bit through the cold November air and rushed towards the train. She threw her suitcase at the worker and ran onto the train. She took a seat near the door, crossed her arms and fumed. There was no one else on the train except Charlie who had been waiting for her. He had no such luck with Bill, Percy, Fred or George, even after he told them that Molly was likely to die any day. Charlie couldn't take his Christmas Vacation until a few days before Christmas because he was in the middle of a case involving a blast-ended skrewt that somehow got inside a muggle library.   
  
"How much longer do you think she will live?" Charlie asked her.   
  
"Without children, a mother's life doesn't seem worth living." Hermione replied quietly. "I can't imagine the hell she goes through before and after Christmas."   
  
Charlie was quiet throughout the rest of their train ride. Yes, of course he loved his mother. She was his companion, his protector, his friend, his guardian and most of all, his mother! When Bill didn't play with him, didn't pay attention to him, his mother was the one to always put down whatever she was doing to read him a story. And even though he was a father now, a husband, he realized that his mother should not be forgotten because of that. His wife had been furious when he said that he would not be coming to Romania with him that year, but promised a visit next year. It was all he could do, he needed to be with his mother. Charlie leaned his head back against the cold window and let sleep take him slowly as he listened to Hermione flip through the pages of a book.  
  
"Wake up Charlie." Hermione said shaking his shoulder. "We're here."  
  
The stop closest to The Burrow wasn't all that close the burrow after all. In fact, it was a five-mile journey. But Arthur, being the Minister of Magic, had installed a portkey near the train stop that was only five steps away. Charlie stood on the porch with Hermione, listening to the familiar sounds of his childhood. He could hear the garden gnomes chattering away in his backyard, the familiar rustle of the frozen tree branches. He could hear the familiar wind of the meadow they lived in and he could almost hear his younger brothers, in all of their glory, gloating and playing and running about inside the house. He sighed and knocked on the door heavily. At first, he heard no sound behind the old wooden door, so Hermione took her fist and banged hard against the door, enough to wake the scarecrows, thought Charlie. Then, they both heard the slow footsteps of someone that seemed very old. Charlie sighed as the door opened and his mother's face peered out. Once she caught site of who was at her door, she flung the door open and spread her arms wide.  
  
"Oh, Charlie! Hermione! What a wonderful surprise!" she said, hugging both of them at the same time. "Come in! Come in! It's so cold outside! Would you like some tea? How about some hot chocolate? I have coffee too!"   
  
"Hello, Mum." Charlie said, following her into the kitchen.   
  
"Hermione, dear, you can put your things in the living room for now. By the looks of it, you'll be here a while. Oh, but I don't mind! I don't mind at all! It's very wonderful you've decided to stay here! It gets so lonely here sometimes." Molly said, rushing to get a kettle boiling.   
  
Charlie had a cup of black coffee while Hermione sipped on a cup of hot chocolate. Molly kept babbling on about things, suddenly appearing very happy and energetic. Molly was drinking a glass of milk. After they were all done, and Molly at the sink, still chattering away happily about many things at one time, Charlie leaned over and whispered to Hermione, "I know it is a lot to ask of you, Hermione. But, Mum hasn't even written her will yet. I know she won't write it straight out, so you have to write it for her and get her to sign it."  
  
"You want me to trick her?" Hermione hissed.   
  
"What if Mum outlives Dad?" Charlie asked her. "Then, the only person that will get everything she owns is Malfoy because he owns this meadow."   
  
"I'll find a way." Hermione assured him.  
  
"What are you two whispering about?" Molly asked walking over, a smile on her thin face.   
  
"Nothing at all, Mum." Charlie said. "But, I have to go now. I've got to get back to the Ministry."   
  
"Oh, all right. But, you will come back for Christmas Dinner, won't you?" she smiled.   
  
"Yes. Of course I will." he said.  
  
Hermione stayed in Ginny's old room, marveling of how clean and kept it looked. It was as if Ginny still lived there. There was no dust, and all of her old robes and dresses were ironed and washed, as if she were to wake up the next morning and wear them. Molly and Hermione's days were slow and easing, one day oozing into the next gracefully. Hermione wondered why Molly's own children didn't appreciate this. Usually, Hermione would follow Molly around the house, listening to her chatter anxiously. Hermione would cook them a small lunch, but Molly insisted she cook dinner for Arthur. The three of them ate together, and sometimes Arthur came home late and they had to wait. Hermione felt so amazed as she saw how deep Molly's love and commitment was to her husband and her children.   
  
Sometimes, they would go up to the attic and look at photo albums, at old faded, moving pictures that waved at them when they turned the page. Molly found much bliss in this, although Hermione would much rather be doing something else. At times, Charlie would drop in just to say hello and have a cup of coffee, but then would go back to the Ministry. Molly was happy that Hermione was there, of course she was! But if her other children would contact her, well, that would be very much better. She assumed all of her children were coming to Christmas Dinner, because Charlie and Hermione were here and surely they wouldn't be able to resist coming if Charlie and Hermione were there. Molly rubbed her hands together as she stood on the porch, breathing in the cold December air. She heard the door open behind her and Hermione step out beside her.  
  
"It's cold, Mrs. Weasley." she said. "We should get inside."  
  
"Do you see the grass, Hermione?" Molly said quietly. "It's frozen. It's cold. But, in spring, it will be green again, this entire meadow will be green. Do you remember those old Quidditch Rings in the backyard? Those, those will always remain rusted. Rusted and old and used. Isn't it a strange life that we all lead?"   
  
Hermione sighed. "Mrs. Weasley, do you see that chair there, next to the window?"   
  
"Yes, I see it. Arthur put it out here seven years ago for me to rock in when he was away on business. I've never sat in it, just thought it looked pretty." Molly said sadly.  
  
"If you were to give it to one of your children, who would it be?" Hermione said, feeling very guilty about tricking Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Ginny." said Mrs. Weasley quietly. "It's just the sort of chair that I can see Ginny sitting in, holding her small children in. Yes, I would give it to Ginny."   
  
During the next week, Hermione would ask about things in every room and to whom Mrs. Weasley would give them. Molly never gave a thought to why Hermione was asking such strange questions about her possessions, but rather liked the thought of giving things to her children and observing the smallest items in the rooms, like the tiny glass figurines on Ginny's windowsill or the plastic dragons that sat all over Charlie's room. Or, the Quidditch Set that lay in the closet of Bill's room. Or, the large journal of Amusing Inventions that Fred and George kept. And of course, there was the shrine of the Chudley Cannons that was in Ron's room. There were stacks and mountains of books in Percy's room, and there were so many old albums and sentimental things that Molly would smile at. Sometimes, when she couldn't decide who needed the item or whom she wanted to give it to, she would cock her head and ask Hermione what she thought. Hermione never knew what she thought about the item, because usually, it was a just a pot or a pan or a cauldron heater.   
  
"What about these old broken glasses of Percy?" Molly said, smiling at the cracked lenses. "Do you think that he would like them?"   
  
"I don't know." Hermione said, scribbling 'broken glasses of Percy' on the piece of parchment that she had been recording all of the possessions. "How about you give them to Bill?"   
  
"Yes, that is a good idea." said Molly smiling. "Bill did name Percy, after all. Did I tell you that story yet, Hermione?"   
  
"Yes." Hermione said, but when she saw the look on Molly's face, she quickly added, "But I would love to hear it again, please."   
  
Hermione had heard countless stories about Molly's children, some of which fascinated her, some of which bored her to the point of no return. Nonetheless, she listened and marveled at the attention that Molly paid to detail. She could remember the exact knit of the sweater, the exact age, day, month and year. It was then that she decided that old age may not take away the memory, that it may just be the loss of hope that steals it away from people. When Hermione had every single item of importance in the house recorded and whom it would belong to, she handed the parchment to Molly for her to sign. Molly took it to her room and read it over, with Hermione sitting on the front porch, rocking in a cardigan and a scarf, reading a book she had found in the kitchen called Little Women. She sat there for a good deal of time, and got tired of reading the book. She closed it and held it on her lap, looking far into the meadow, wondering how a place could seem so at peace. The door opened and Molly gave Hermione the parchment with her signature.   
  
"Thank you." Molly said. "I know I couldn't have written that on my own."   
  
"I'm sorry I tricked you into writing your own will." Hermione said. "That was wrong of me to do, even though I meant well."  
  
"Don't be sorry." Molly said, smiling. "Life is to short to have regrets."  
  
On December 23rd, Charlie came for lunch and informed his mother that he would be staying until December 27th, for the Christmas holidays. That lunch, they had soup, which Hermione had cooked with inexperienced hands. Charlie could taste the difference, but didn't say anything, afraid of hurting Hermione's feelings. Charlie had pestered all of his brothers and his sister. He had called them every other day, pleading with them to reconsider Christmas Dinner, but was careful not to tell them why. He had even tried to plead with their wives, but nothing was successful. His own wife had been angry with him, even when he had explained. His wife and children were going to Rome without him this Christmas, and he couldn't help but feel bad about it. But, he owed his mother his life, his friendship, things that he could never repay or repent for. Lost minutes that had seeped through the years and had just disappeared.  
  
"When are they coming, Charlie?" Molly said eagerly. "What time should we expect your brothers and sister? When is your family coming?"  
  
"My family is going to Rome." he said, stirring his coffee. "Bill, Percy, Fred and George said that they couldn't come this time. They said they were very sorry."   
  
"Oh." said Molly sadly. "What about you Hermione? When are Ron and Ginny coming?"  
  
"They apologize from the bottom of their hearts, but they couldn't make it this year. They promised to come next year, and I know they're thinking about you." Hermione said, almost apologetically.  
  
"So, it will just be the four of us, then." Molly said, trying to fight her tears. "Just the four of us. Just like a happy little family."  
  
"Mum." Charlie said, embracing her as she started to break down. "It's all right. It's just fine, they'll come next year. I'm sure they will."   
  
Hermione put her hand on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder as she sobbed. "Your children love you, Mrs. Weasley. They love you very very much."   
  
Arthur walked into the kitchen and glanced at the scene with his sobbing wife. He looked away, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Seeing that there was no dinner prepared, he went over to the sink to wash his hands and cook what he could. Hermione walked over to the telephone, dialing Ginny and Ron, attempting one last time to come. She took the phone out of the room and shut the door, listening to the ring on the other side of the phone. There was silence, except for Molly's sobbing and the grumbling of the cauldron heater for a few minutes. Then, Hermione's loud, angry yells could be heard from the other room. There was a crash, as if she had thrown the telephone against the wall. Hermione came out of the room, face red with anger. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, not knowing what to do, unsure of anything. Wondering even if her own children would do this to her.   
  
"Come, eat." Arthur said, ladling soup into four bowls.   
  
They ate in silence, Molly looking at her soup, spooning some up, and then letting it drip back into the bowl. Charlie ate as if nothing was wrong, putting on a fake smile that seemed to be peeling right off of his face. Arthur ate just like Charlie, false emotions taped onto his face as he smiled at his wife. Hermione ate her soup slowly, not tasting it, just eating it, filling her stomach with it. Halfway through her bowl, she dropped her spoon on the table, covered her face with her right hand and cried. Mrs. Weasley reached over for her free hand and held it. "It's all right, Hermione. You've been wonderful to me. Very wonderful." she said. Hermione nodded through her tears. Arthur, finished with his soup, stood up and took all of the bowls to the sink to be washed as Hermione sat there crying and Bill trudged up the stairs without a retreating glance.   
  
"Would you like some ice cream, Molly?" Arthur asked her. "Ice cream always cheers you up."  
  
"I feel old." she responded. "I feel old and tired. I feel selfish. I'm going to sleep. I'm going to sleep for a long time, don't you bother me, Arthur. I would like to be alone for a little while."   
  
Arthur and Hermione watched her as she slowly crossed the kitchen floor in slow, unsure steps. Hermione called out to her, "Are we still going to have Christmas Dinner, Mrs. Weasley?"   
  
"No, Hermione. There will be no more Christmas Dinners for me." came the soft reply.   
  
"What does she mean?" Hermione said, frantically turning to Arthur. "What does she mean there will be no more Christmas Dinners for her?"   
  
"I don't know." Arthur said, sighing. He sat down and held his hand in his hands. "Oh, dear God. I have to work through this holiday. I have a wizard on Trial tomorrow, all day. I can't leave, I can't possibly put it off. Hermione, you and Charlie have to take care of Molly. Take very good care of her."   
  
"What's going to happen to her?" Hermione asked, finding no explanation for her apparent illness in her head.   
  
"I don't know." Arthur said. "I really don't know."  
  
That night, Hermione slept in Ginny's room, listening to the silence of the house. She heard wispy winter winds passing by and weaving through the tree branches. Charlie slept in his old room, wondering about the lack of dust on all of his toy dragons. Arthur slept on the couch in the Living Room. He was more miserable then he had ever been in his entire life. He stared into the darkness, wanting to cry. But, he told himself, boys don't cry. It was an attitude that he had kept since he was little and was afraid that he had passed on to his children. His wife was letting go of her life. She was sick, her bones were brittle, she was very much underweight. She didn't eat as much as she should, and she couldn't find a reason to live. Arthur sighed deeply and closed his eyes and slept a long, dreamless sleep.  
  
---  
  
"Minister?" Percy said, nudging him. "Minister, the criminal pleads innocent."   
  
"Wha -- Oh, yes." Arthur said, snapping back into reality. "What alibi does he have?"   
  
The man was a murderer. It was plain and simple. He had killed, left his name at the murder sites and then ran. Arthur wasn't even concerned that he was still pleading innocent, his mind was elsewhere. His wife hadn't woken up to cook breakfast, rather slept in. Something she hadn't done in a very long time. Hermione and Charlie were with her, sitting in the room, wrapping empty boxes. Molly, he had told them, loved the sound of wrapping presents and the look of them even more. They had set up the Christmas tree in her room, a pitiful little artificial one. There were very few ornaments on the tree, including the one she had gotten at Diagon Alley. Arthur would like to have been there with her, with them. Was it cloudy outside, he wondered.  
  
"Minister!" Percy said, louder this time. "Please focus at the matter at hand."   
  
"Yes, of course. The matter at hand." Arthur repeated blankly. "Now, where were you when Luna Lovegood was killed?"   
  
"Nowhere." the murderer answered.   
  
"Oh, yes. Could you be a little more specific?" Arthur asked, not bothering to note his arrogance. "Nowhere is a bit difficult to pinpoint."  
  
"I was in a bar, okay?" the murdered yelled gruffly. "Getting drunk."  
  
"Right. Getting drunk." Arthur repeated.   
  
---  
  
Charlie tied the bow on another wrapped empty box and tossed it over with the others. Hermione looked at Mrs. Weasley, who was looking even paler and her breaths were short and ragged. She had a high fever, and her forehead was burning up. Charlie had draped six blankets over her, but still, she shivered. Hermione was constantly taking her temperature, and reporting to Charlie as she chattered on about random facts about fevers and old people that Charlie didn't particularly have an interest in.   
  
"I'm going to the bathroom." she announced, successfully throwing off all six of Charlie's blankets. "Don't follow me. I'm a grown woman, you know."   
  
"Yes, we know." Charlie said, watching her as she made her way into the bathroom door that was right next to their Christmas tree.   
  
They heard the sink start running as Hermione tossed another wrapped box under the tree. She knew that she could stop now that Molly was awake. But. for some reason, she wanted to keep wrapping, as if there were some unknown comfort that it gave her. A feeling that her family might come at Christmas. Security, friendship and love were the things that went through her mind as she wrapped the presents as if they were her own to give, not just empty boxes. Charlie had stopped wrapping, and the water in the bathroom stopped running and instead, they heard Molly coughing. She started to cough harder and harder, more frequently. Charlie knocked on the bathroom door. "Mum? Mum, are you alright?"   
  
There was no answer, except for the raspy coughs.   
  
"Move." Hermione commanded him. She grasped the doorknob and yanked it open. Charlie rushed in to find his mother, sitting on the bathroom floor, holding the edge of the counter. Blood was splattered in the sink and onto the tile and onto the floor where she now sat. She gave him a helpless look and Charlie felt his stomach crash through the floor when he saw the blood that still dripped out of her mouth.   
  
"Oh, God." He rushed to her, and caught her as she fell. "Hermione! Hermione what's wrong with her?"   
  
"Get her to the bed!" Hermione said, a panic rising in her.   
  
Charlie lifted up his mother and turned away when he saw the blood on her dress. "What's wrong with her? What is it?"   
  
Hermione just stared, stunned. "I don't know." she sobbed, breaking down. "Oh my God, I don't know!" She was shaking.   
  
"Listen to me!" Charlie grabbed her shoulders and held her firmly. "Go to the Ministry and get my father. Go find him."  
  
"I can't leave her." Hermione sobbed. "I can't do it."  
  
"Hermione!" Charlie said, shaking her. "Let him hold his wife one last time. Go and find my father. I don't care if you have to fly there, just get him here in time."   
  
Hermione nodded tearfully, grabbed her wand off of the table and apparated to the dark Alley where the entrance was.  
  
The Court was being held in the basement, this much she knew. She went down in the elevator, hands shaking and tears pouring down her cheeks. Ron would be here today, she thought. He would be having lunch with Harry and then watching the Trial. Harry would be standing guard at the entrance to the Trial, making sure that no one got in. Hermione's stomach plunged at the thought of this. The elevator stopped and she ran. She ran past cubicles, paper airplanes flying past her, left and right. She knew that her face would look horrible in the morning, paper cuts all over the place. Hermione saw Harry in front of the door, reading something.   
  
"Hermione, wha--" he said, surprised when she nearly ran into him.   
  
"I need to get in there!" she cried desperately.  
  
"I can't let you in there. The Minister has a Trial he needs to attend to." Harry said.   
  
"Harry! This is much more important than that! Let me in! Let me in!" she said, pushing against him.   
  
Harry easily held her where she was, holding her wrists in his hands. "Hermione, you know I can't. Please, you have to understand. I'll have to call security if you don't stop it!"  
  
"I thought you were security." Hermione commented. "I'm warning you, Harry. Let me in!"  
  
"No." Harry said.   
  
Hermione glanced up at him and then pushed him back with all of her power and watched him fall onto the sleek, shiny floor with a shocked look on his face. She pushed against the giant doors with all of the strength she could muster and ran into the great room. The second she entered, all of the talking stopped and every person in the room stood up and looked at her. Seeing Mr. Weasley only made her think of Molly more. She gave a sob and then covered her mouth with her hands.   
  
"Potter!" Percy boomed. "Get her out of here at once!"   
  
"Hermione, come on." Harry mumbled, completely embarrassed. He grabbed her arm a little too firmly. Hermione kept her eyes locked on Mr. Weasley's.   
  
"Wait." Arthur said, standing up. All of the eyes that had been on Hermione turned to him.  
  
Arthur got up from his chair, walked around the chairs and past the murderer and straight in front of Hermione. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked hard at her. He wondered what on Earth had made her so upset and that it struck him. "Oh, dear God." he breathed. Arthur ran out of the room and disappeared with a wave of his wand. Harry looked at Hermione with anger his eyes. He released her arm.   
  
"What is this about, Hermione?" he asked. "What's going on?"   
  
She didn't answer either, but merely apparated out of his sight.  
  
---  
  
Arthur rushed into the house, his heart beat uncomfortably fast. He heard Hermione come in behind him. "In her room." she said. "Hurry!" Arthur ran up The Burrow stairs, blinded by his tears. He didn't care if he wasn't supposed to cry or that he left the trial. He ran through the hallway, past the open doors of his children's rooms and into the room he had shared with Molly for fifty-three years. Charlie was wiping the blood off of her mouth and looking down at her mournfully. He looked up when he saw his father. The unfallen tears were in his eyes, and his thick, outer shell that all Weasley men had was broken and his true emotions showed. Arthur approached her slowly, sitting beside her on the bed. A feeling of helplessness took her, threatening to take him if he did not resist it.   
  
"My Molly." he said softly. "Where is the one place in the world that you would like to be most in the world?"   
  
She looked at him with misted eyes and was quiet before answering. "On the very bottom step on the front porch. I don't care if it is too cold. That is where I would like to be."   
  
Arthur smiled at her and picked her up. Charlie and Hermione followed him as he descended slowly down the Burrow stairs. The stairs that she would never climb up or down on again. He took her out onto the front porch, where sky was cloudless and the air was crisp and cold. There was no wind, just the silence of a winter day. He sat down with her still on his lap, looking out into the frozen meadow before them. He heard Hermione settle down in the rocking chair that he had bought for Molly seven years ago and Charlie stood, leaning against the closed door. Everything was quiet and all Arthur wanted to think about was the weather. The ridiculous weather. Molly, her eyes were unreadable. She just sat there smiling, looking out onto the field. They sat there for long, counted minutes. Even the smallest cough or word seemed incredibly loud.   
  
"What are you thinking about right now?" Arthur said as her smile grew bigger.   
  
"You." she said happily.   
  
And it was there, at four past five on December 24th that Molly Elaine Eloise Weasley passed away, in the arms of her husband in the one place that she would've liked to be in the entire world. A cold winter breeze swept through the air the moment she left them, like a whisper, like a thought just passing by. Arthur dared not look at his wife, just held her tighter then he ever had and buried his head in her snow-white hair. Hermione started to sob and Charlie put a comforting hand on her shoulder.   
  
"She's gone." Hermione sobbed. "Oh, God."   
  
---  
  
The rest of Molly's children found out in the paper that their mother had died. Arthur had not gone to work the next day, Molly's body being transported to St. Mungo's. He sat in the rocking chair on Christmas Day, feeling as lost and lonely as he ever had. What a life she had lead, what a life that had touched his. A life that he never understood to its full extent, but loved, nonetheless. His Molly was gone. Hermione and Bill were still at the house, Charlie cleaning up the blood in the bathroom. Hermione was reading the book that Molly did not finish on the front porch, in the rocking chair. He felt so sad, so angry, so lost. But, this time, there was no Molly to find him again and bring him back to reality. The paper rested on his lap and the headline seemed to blare at him, mocking him, teasing him. "Minister's Wife Passes On." The article just told of how he left the court, of how he did not go to work today, of how many children they had and what each one did. They told nothing of her life, nothing of her greatness.   
  
"Dad." Charlie said, dressed in his black dress robes. "It's time to go. We cannot be late. Hermione is already ready."   
  
Arthur said nothing, just got up and nodded. Hermione stood outside the door and when he closed the door behind him, she took his hand and smiled at him through her tears.   
  
"Don't cry." Arthur said, smiling softly. "You did all that you could."   
  
"No." Hermione said, shaking her head. "There is always more that one could do. But, a very wise woman once told me something. She said that life is too short to have regrets and I do believe that she is right."   
  
Arthur smiled. "She was right."   
  
The funeral was held in the Hogsmeade Cathedral. This time, all of Molly's children and grandchildren showed up, dressed in black. They all came by their own will, to bid their mother a final farewell and then disappearing again. None could meet their father's eyes when he walked in. McGonagall attended the funeral, and so did Seth. Old, old Seth who they had not talked to in well over ten years sat right beside Arthur at Molly's funeral. Her casket was closed, but a still, muggle photograph sat on top a table in front of her casket. She was younger then, with all seven of her living children. Bill only fourteen and Ginny only two. The speaker read the article that was in the paper and the eulogy that was prepared by Hermione. And then, there was silence. Arthur rose from his seat and walked over to his wife's coffin, not knowing what to say, hoping that somehow, if he did say something, she would hear him.   
  
"All eight of our children." he said, quietly. "Laura, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny. All of them are beautiful. Laura is gone already, left us when we were young and foolish. And the rest of them, the rest of them are growing up. You were sad that they didn't come to visit like they used to. We've given them the strength to go out into the world and survive without us." he paused. "I have made so many mistakes. Getting drunk, abandoning my family to name just a few. And every time you brought me back. There is no speech, no words to express my gratitude and love for you. I love you, Molly. I have loved you ever since my Fifth Year. I still love you. I will never stop loving you."   
  
Nine doves sat in a rather large cage behind the coffin. Arthur smiled. Attached to eight of the doves was the Ribbon of each of his child. He had gotten the copy of Laura and Bill's ribbon from the hospital. Two pink, faded Ribbons and six faded blue ribbons tied to their legs. Attached to the Ninth was nothing. The Ninth was the most special of them all because it symbolized the freedom of simplicity and the beauty of being free. Arthur took out his wand and flicked it three times. The metal door of the birdcage flew open and all Nine of the Doves flew out, scattering, flying and then flying out the top window of the cathedral, into the sky. Dear God, Arthur thought. Let them reach her. Let her see them.   
  
Arthur closed his eyes and let the silence envelope him and felt his entire life spin before him. And through his entire life, he saw Molly. She was his wife, his purpose in living. Now that she was gone, he would not find another purpose. He would live his days to the best of his abilities because that's what she would have wanted. When he made those vows before Dumbledore fifty-three years ago, by God, he meant them with every breath he took. Until Death do us Part, he said quietly. But, he thought, maybe it does not end in death. Maybe the happy endings are not when one dies and the other lives. Maybe the happy endings are those stories that don't really have an end, but go on for all eternity. The stories that that didn't seem try, but were. And, he felt, that his story was one of them. No, he corrected himself, smiling.   
  
Their story.   
  
FIN. 


End file.
